


What Internships Are For

by jackmischief



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, D/s elements, Disabled Character, M/M, Modern AU, Rhys has glasses, Sugar Daddy AU, as per request, internship AU, porn at some point, rating will be E soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackmischief/pseuds/jackmischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hyperion internship was probably one of the most difficult programs to get into in the cybernetics world. The chances of even the most remarkable graduate getting one was 1:4000000. Daunting odds. Rhys sent in his resume, and got the space. Winding up meeting his idol and being pampered instead of strangled was not what he expected to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SinclairTopside](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinclairTopside/gifts), [oldmanrenkas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmanrenkas/gifts).
  * Inspired by [theteenagehorror's sugar daddy!au](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/132098) by http://theteenagehorror.com/. 



The Hyperion internship was probably one of the most difficult programs to get into in the cybernetics world. They only accepted applications from prestigious universities’ graduate students in robotics and engineering, with the occasional acceptance of an outstanding medical student. Essentially, one couldn’t even get a foot in the door of the international leading robotics corporation without a long list of impressive connections and an enormously padded resume. The chances of even the most remarkable graduate getting enough a leg up to be so much as considered were something like 1:4000000. Daunting odds.

Rhys sent in his resume with only a faint expectation of even receiving a response, denial or otherwise. But a familiar glimmer of hope that somehow still shined despite everything that had happened to him was enough to make it impossible to forget when he sent the hefty file to Hyperion’s internship division.

 

 

It was a week later, when Rhys had forced himself to push that dangerous hope toward the back of his skull, that he received the message from Hyperion. He had to read it several times to process it, absolutely sure that he was just hallucinating. Adjusting his glasses, he frowned deeply at his ECHOpad, setting it down to more effectively scroll to the bottom of the message. He read it about thirty times before he accepted it as reality and not some wonderful fever dream.

An excited squawk escaped him, startling his best friend on the other side of the island counter in their shared apartment. Vaughn, smaller but no less emotive, jolted in his seat, setting his palms flat on the faux granite as Rhys slapped it jovially.

“What, what is it?” Vaughn asked hurriedly, momentarily confused by his roommate’s energy. “It’s good, okay, but what is it?”

“I got it!” Rhys blurted, beaming hugely.

Vaughn lit up in response. Rhys’ joy was hard not to mirror. “You got it!” he shouted, hopping off his barstool the same as Rhys and going around the counter to hug him tightly. Rhys grunted with the force of it, but did his best to return it, using his arm to pull his shorter friend in close. “You got it!” came Vaughn’s continued enthusiasm, slightly muffled by Rhys’ chest.

 

 

“Whoa,” Rhys mumbled, inspecting the files he received a few days later. “Oh my god. Vaughn. Vaughn, they’re putting me up in the actual robotics division. _Vaughn,_ ” he said louder, eyes widening as he spun the ECHOpad to show him.

Vaughn bent back up from tugging on his shoes, squinting at the file on display and raising both eyebrows. “Dude,” he said definitively. “That’s exactly what you wanted, right? Holy crap!”

“The _robotics division,_ ” Rhys emphasized, practically vibrating in his shoes. Vaughn had to reach over and pull his hand from the side of his head, embarrassed on his behalf. “ _The robotics division!_ ”

“The robotics division,” Vaughn agreed slowly, nodding carefully and guiding Rhys to sit on the sofa, afraid he’d give himself a heart attack. Could you go into cardiac arrest from too much excitement? He needed to look it up. Rhys didn’t argue, seeming happy to comply and slide into a lying down position where he could hyperventilate and grin into the cushions.

 

 

The Hyperion Headquarters building was larger than life as Rhys stopped a few blocks away to admire it. Unsurprisingly, the whole thing stood over a hundred stories tall. Rhys could identify it from twenty miles away if he had to, the shape of it alien and unforgettable. The two main towers stood thin and straight, shooting up into the skyline with sleek windows and beams that reflected darkly in the sunlight. High up, a round center connected the two, with only a few cleverly placed windows that held a more silver edge to their shine. A few sky bridges went between towers, but there seemed to be only one long bar that gave the link between the center and the towers. Rhys had exhausted himself several times trying to research what the center was actually for, what departments could be in it, if it was restricted access. He still couldn’t find answers.

Steeling himself, he continued on, walking with feigned confidence to the closest main entrance, based at the southeast tower. He could do this. He’d been invited, technically, so it wasn’t like he was some ignorant tourist who just wanted a few pictures inside the infamous Hyperion HQ. He was a starry-eyed intern, which was _so_ much different. If he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick selfie of himself inside the building, standing in the center of the lobby foyer with the parallel balconies above him and a stupid grin on his face, that was just to mark the morning of his first day as an intern there. Which was his business, not the skeptical woman rushing in behind him, her rolling eyes be damned.

He approached the receptionist with significantly less confidence, not having to fake anxiety as he stopped short of the desk and fidgeted in place. The receptionist didn’t even lift her eyes from her screen, tapping away at her keyboard. Rhys swallowed thickly, gripping the strap of his messenger bag and bouncing one leg as he summoned the courage to speak.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked without looking. The waves of unease rolling off of the gangly young man in front of her were distracting.

Rhys cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. He could do this, he was supposed to be here, wasn’t he? “Yeah, yes. Yes. I’m, I’m the new intern, Rhys–,” he began, impressed by his words’ stability.

“ID?” the receptionist interrupted, finally looking up at him. If there was a way to look down your nose at someone standing a good two and a half feet taller than you, she had perfected it, sharp eyes locked on Rhys’ face.

“Oh,” Rhys said, humiliated. He knew that. They’d told him in the acceptance file that he was supposed to use his ID card to be given access to the floor he was supposed to meet his supervisor on. Rhys had read that file a thousand times. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flicked his wrist to open it. The woman took the wallet directly from him, causing Rhys’ mouth to fall open dopily. “What are–?”

Scanning the code at the bottom of the card, she tapped at her keys again and held his wallet back out to him. He took it with furrowed brow, and slowly tucked it away again while the woman continued typing with both hands. It took a little longer than Rhys would have expected, and his uncomfortable impatience had him bouncing his heel again, frowning.

“Thumbprint,” the receptionist said shortly, setting a small device to the young man’s right. Its small screen projected upward, and Rhys frowned deeper for a moment, narrowing his gaze at the woman. “Thumbprint,” she repeated touchily, not looking at him again.

He suspected that she had no intention to offend, so he reached over his chest to use his left hand – the _only one he had,_ that oblivious woman _obviously_ didn’t notice. It was kind-of nice, actually. Rhys relaxed a little as he wondered if he could get this sort of treatment from the people on the transit home. It was a change of pace not to be stared at. He suddenly wished he’d brought even his simplest prosthetic, though, starting to tense again as he realized he would have a lot of strangers, including fellow interns, seeing him in full-view as soon as he reached his floor.

They would probably stare.

“ _Eye_ ,” the receptionist said sharply, sounding an awful lot like she’d said it a dozen times already, which she very well could have. She snatched back the thumbprint pad, tapping the counter near a second device Rhys hadn’t noticed was set to his left.

“Oh, sorry!” he said with a sheepish smile, wondering if he’d forgotten his meds that morning. He’d been too anxious to sleep, but at least he had the acceptance file memorized, his boxes repacked in alphabetical order, and four-dozen paper frogs folded. He’d taken up origami to challenge himself a few months after he quit physical therapy. If there was one thing technology and medical science hadn’t caught up to, it was ADD. He was still taking oral medications every 72 hours since he was fourteen. That had been one of the only things to power him through high school. There would’ve been no way he’d finish on time, let alone early, if it hadn’t been for the diagnosis and subsequent medication. He leaned in for the projected scanner waiting in front of his face, and kept his eye opened as his retinas were programmed into the Hyperion system.

The red beam was quick, and the receptionist picked up the device to set it out of sight somewhere. “Alright, you’re good. Just enter your ID number into the elevator, it’ll get you where you need to go. Pick up your badge from your supervisor.” With a wave of her hand, she shooed him toward the elevators.

Rhys turned uncertainly, walking to the elevator bay and staring at the nearest set of doors. They opened without request, and he hesitated before stepping inside. The doors slid shut near silently behind him, and a pad on the wall lit up with a simple row of numbers. Rhys tapped his ID out, and a soft _ding_ echoed around him before the elevator sprung into action, jolting the brunet and making him grab the smooth metal railing at his side. The transition between floors was seamless, and only the interruption of light behind him made him turn around, startled.

A brief glance of several floors passed, the elevator situated at the end of long halls with high ceilings, various departments sliding swiftly past him as he rose. When the elevator slowed, Rhys gripped the rail and waited for another startling motion, expecting a rough stop to go with the rough start. He sighed to himself when the doors just slid open, another _ding_ apparently telling him he’d arrived. Getting out quickly, he stood stiffly at the end of the hall for a long time, looking over the sleek and stylish foyer of the Robotics Department.

Rhys’ new home.

 

 

It took Rhys all of two weeks to get into the flow of things at Hyperion. According to countless testimonies of interns at other companies, interning was a lot about fetching documents and files, making coffee runs, and being talked down to, and a lot less about finding out how whoever you were working for did business and learning how to function in the position you were aiming for. Hyperion didn’t seem to be that much different. At least at Hyperion, all the people you were being overworked by were making 5500 times what you made working full-time as a barista when you started having to support yourself at the ripe old age of seventeen, instead of a measly 3000 times like the higher-ups at _other_ corporations. Which meant maybe _you’d_ be raking in that extra cash by the time you actually rose through the ranks at Hyperion. You’d hope.

Already he was getting another stack of refurbished ECHOcomms to carry to another wing of the department, after lugging stacks half his weight across to the second tower half a dozen times earlier that morning. The term “grunt” work was starting to make a whole new wave of sense. He frowned deeply as he returned to his small desk in the cubicle pool, just about to sit down when his supervisor’s head swung into his shared cubicle, making him jump and stumble clumsily into his seat.

“Uh,” Maya began after a beat, raising a vibrant eyebrow that matched her perfectly styled blue hair. “Just letting you know you’re on your break,” she said simply, and disappeared again when Rhys nodded stiffly in response.

 

 

Great. Perfect time for his battery to be at six percent power. He hadn’t had a chance that whole morning to charge it, and since he’d forgotten to charge it overnight like he usually did, the battery was lower than he’d let it get the whole time he’d been interning at Hyperion. Just fantastic.

He had his miniature charger in his bag, pulling it out as he wandered the halls in search of a wall outlet. Maybe it was weird to look for chargers in the halls, but he’d started doing it when he’d found out how much easier it was to breathe the further away he was from the people who kept him under their feet for fun and profit. Besides, it wasn’t like he could hear himself think when he was completely boxed in by people.

He wandered a whole new hall this time, liking the quiet that seemed to reach him by the time he found sign of an outlet. Grinning with triumph, he crouched and set the plug in, watching his phone brighten to show him the battery life recharging. Tiredly, he eased himself to sit on the floor – up against the wall, of course – and brought his knees close to his chest. Since Rhys was what people made a loud habit of calling “leggy,” he usually tried to keep himself as small as he could. At first. But it wasn’t like other people didn’t relax and stretch out when their attention went somewhere else.

Comfortable, Rhys began answering messages and replying to a question from Vaughn, knees slowly relaxing and legs sliding to stretch out or fall over. In his desperation to charge his phone in peace, Rhys had kept all his energy to search out an outlet, and he hadn’t looked any further down the hall once he’d established a charge, so leave it to an overworked intern to miss the inlaid maple wood doors all of a lone elevator less than a foot away. Leave it to absentminded Rhys to forget that most people don’t typically expect to have someone’s leg in the way on the floor in front of them. Leave it to fate for someone to be stepping out of the elevator doors when someone else’s conveniently long legs were there to trip over.

“…I’ll be back in five minutes, you whiner,” the man said firmly, and tapped his ear comm as he turned on his heel outside of the elevator. Half a second later, he shouted in surprise when his toe caught the side of something higher than it was supposed to be. The man hadn’t expected to stumble, naturally, but he caught himself quickly, the culprit shouting in shock and mild pain.

Rhys hissed, pulling his knees up and following the other man with his eyes, grimacing. “Shit, I’m sorry!” he said quickly, maneuvering to get himself up. His shin stung, but Rhys had a learned inclination to apologize when his long, scrawny limbs got in someone else’s way. “Are you okay?” he asked, just as he got a good look at who his stupid legs had tripped. His next words fell out in a garbled stammer that slowly petered out.

“What the hell is that, princess?” Handsome Jack himself demanded, thick arms folded in front of his chest as he scowled at the younger man. “You wanna try that one again while I’ve still got my infamous patience, or should I break your legs right here?” he went on without pausing, tone heavily laced with irritation.

“Hah…” Rhys said dumbly, dragging out the sound and starting to turn a bright pink. “It’s, I–,” he tried again, face on fire as panic crawled up his spine. “I’m s-sorry, sir!” Rhys said as he straightened up, elbow locking as he forced his arm to his side.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Handsome Jack asked, approaching with unexpected agility, Rhys barely having time to take a single step back before the man was on him. He invaded Rhys’ personal space, barely needing to square his shoulders to box the younger man in, backing him into the wall and smirking darkly at him the whole time. “You got a name?”

“R-Rhys,” the intern replied, swallowing roughly, and holding his hand up in surrender. This couldn’t be happening. Handsome Jack was right in front of him.

“ _Reez_?” the CEO snorted, staring Rhys down with his own mismatched eyes. He looked like he was about to say something else, but he suddenly turned his face to the side, expression soured as he barked into his ECHOcomm, “What!” Rhys froze, startled, and stared at Jack as he listened to the caller. “Are you fuckin’ _kidding_ me?” he hissed, turning back toward the elevator and smacking the panel on the wall right next to Rhys’ armless side, making the brunet yelp.

Rhys dared not move as Handsome Jack continued his call, the words muted in Rhys’ ears as he stood stock still with shock. What was happening? What had just happened? Handsome Jack was right there, Handsome Jack had called him _princess,_ Handsome Jack had _sort-of_ said his name. All Rhys could hear by the time the elevator doors closed behind Handsome Jack was white noise. When he could finally hear the quiet rush of the air conditioning above him, he came to realize something even more important about what had just happened. He swayed with a groan, sliding down the wall and covering his eyes with his hand.

Handsome Jack was going to _kill_ him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A busy morning would put anyone in a shitty mood, so Jack hunts down the intern that tripped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god idk about this chapter pls enjoy  
> also I apologize in advance for this fic ever getting dialogue-heavy because I'm a huge sucker

It had been a long morning of taking calls, appointments, idiots only a few rungs down the corporate ladder royally screwing up, and coffee stains on his desk. This wasn’t necessarily an unusual day, mind you. Hyperion was a mess whenever Jack took a day off like he had just the day before, but after having a nice, relaxing trip to Pandora to take care of some… old business, he had to return to the daily grind to find three different mergers were suddenly off-schedule, the accounting department was falling behind, and someone had managed to spill coffee on his receptionist an hour into the work day. The coffee spill had been a brief moment of delightful hilarity, but considering Ms. Hammerlock was close to what Jack might actually call a “friend,” he hadn’t laughed long, and she herself stayed in a sour mood the whole morning. Jack was genuinely surprised she hadn’t taken advantage of wiping the klutz that got her nice pencil skirt wet off the face of the planet.

Needless to say, the combination of events left him in a piss-poor mood, and sometime around the end of his lunch hour, with a sub sandwich in one hand and a fresh cup of coffee in the other, it occurred to him: people slacked off if they didn’t think he was around to snap them back in line. It was obvious, of course, it probably happened in every company, but there was a different feel to slacking when your head honcho was goddamned Handsome Jack. Handsome Jack had made a point from the very beginning of his reign as CEO that he did _not_ tolerate laziness.

It was time for a round of Get The Hell Out, hosted by the big man himself.

Hitting the ECHOcomm on the upper corner of his desk, he pulled up the screen for his receptionist. He really should get a personal assistant again, but the last one was such a disappointment that he had to eject her from the top floor after a measly month of bad work ethic. So for the time being, Hammerlock was stuck doing the additional secretarial duties. At least she got a pay raise for it, so she hadn’t complained for long.

“Ms. Hammerlock!” he said loudly, clearly excited for the formation of his idea. He was still halfway through chewing a large bite of his sandwich, speaking with his mouth full.

“Yes, sir?” she responded, looking dully at her own screen, unimpressed by the crumbs falling out of Jack’s mouth.

“I want a list of the people who keep slowing down productivity. I’m sick of slackers and mistakes. These idiots keep fucking up Hyperion, and I’m not going to have everything I’ve worked for tarnished because some moron in requisitions couldn’t fucking count to ten,” Jack explained, seeming to surprise his receptionist, as evidenced by her raised brow.

“You know, that’s something you could very easily access, _if you had a personal assistant,_ ” she said tightly, looking at him on her own screen. “But since you very literally _obliterated_ your last one, I suppose I can do this for you. This time.”

“You’re a real doll, Hammerlock,” Jack chuckled. There were so few who could get away with talking to him like that. He took another bite of his sandwich and hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, just send me the list, and I’ll get to firing a bunch of useless scum-suckers. In a few minutes, this sandwich is just fuckin’ amazing.”

 

 

Handsome Jack’s mood further plummeted after he finished eating. The list Ms. Hammerlock had put together was long. He’d expected it to be aggravating and lengthy, but this list was worse. Way worse. “Are you kidding me with this?” he growled, sneering as he scrolled down the list. Might as well pick somewhere to start and go on a spree. Why not? It would make him feel better. With an exaggerated sigh, he spun his grand chair and rose quickly, grabbing a smaller ECHOpad and tucking it into his jacket.

Ms. Hammerlock lifted a hand briefly, wiggling her fingers in a small wave as he stormed past her on his way to his private elevator. The Executive Box, it was affectionately called. Mostly in Jack’s head.

He flicked the button on the communicator already set into his ear, and offered his receptionist a long-suffering sigh as the elevator moved. “I tell ya, Hammerlock, I’m getting real sick of this,” he said, standing with his feet apart to catch his weight with the momentum of the elevator. “Reeeeal sick,” he drawled for emphasis.

“Enlighten me,” the woman replied, setting her elbow on the desk and rolling her eyes.

“How many times do I hafta go through this, huh? Why can’t people just do their damned _jobs_?” Jack went on, starting to scowl.

“It eludes me. But sir?”

“Yup.”

“Your moaning is keeping me from doing mine.”

Jack barked out a laugh, and leaned back against the elevator railing. “Watch it.”

“Yes, sir,” Ms. Hammerlock replied curtly, and proceeded to hang up on him.

The timing was just as well, because he got another call half a second later, and he tapped his comm and sighed again. “What?” he demanded.

“Um, sir? It’s. The uh. On Floor 51, there’s.”

“Who the hell is this? What the hell are you talking about? I was just there this morning, what could _possibly_ have gone wrong in less than two hours?”

The caller squeaked, and Jack could picture them cowering as they spoke into the receiver. “It’s – I’m Crusoe. On Floor 51. The project head wants to speak with you?” they went on in a weak voice, and Jack rolled his eyes at length. He loved being feared, don’t get him wrong, but it occasionally translated into people wasting his time by stuttering on and tripping over words.

“So put ‘er on, you amateur,” he snapped in reply, and with another squeak, Crusoe transferred the call.

“Jack!” a young, cheerful voice began, and didn’t wait for an answer. “So I just got the new shipment in, and it is tiiiiiiight!” she sing-songed.

_New shipment_. Shifting his weight, the CEO stood upright again, listening intently. “That so? Sounds great, I’ll be there later today, don’t touch anything.”

“Aw, but. But it’s–it’s all so beautiful, I’ve just gotta get my mitts on ‘em!”

The elevator doors slid open, and Jack stepped out. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be back in five minutes, you whiner,” he told the caller, and hung up as he turned to head toward his first target in his latest game of Get The Hell Out, some tool in sales that was about to meet the inside of a paper shredder. But he tripped suddenly, half-falling before he caught himself, momentarily bewildered and pulled out of his increasingly bloody thoughts. Whoever had just tripped him had the gall to cry out, and as Jack spun with fire in his eyes, he found the culprit struggling to get up. He’d tripped over some kid’s _legs?_

Oh, _hell_ no.

The kid was apologizing profusely, but as soon as his puny little brain registered that he was, in fact, standing face-to-face with Handsome Jack, the color drained out of him, and the words fell apart.

“What the hell is that, princess?” Jack snorted with a deep frown, folding his arms. “You wanna try that one again while I’ve still got my infamous patience, or should I break your legs right here?” He had places to be, but either this kid was going to meet the business end of one of his favorite pistols, or he was going to hurry it up.

“Hah…” the kid said, and his pallor vanished in place of an impressive blush. Jack narrowed his gaze the slightest bit. Pretty color for an idiot. “It’s, I–I’m s-sorry, sir!” The kid – who he now assumed was an intern – stood up straighter, and Jack was genuinely impressed he managed to make eye contact. Not a lot of low-level grunts could muster up the balls.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Handsome Jack asked, stepping up to him quickly, a useful and effective intimidation tactic. The way the younger man backed up was satisfying, but the closer Jack got the easier the kid was on the eyes. Huh. A smirk spread over his lips, pulling the mask with it. Kid was so afraid of him that he backed himself into the wall with actually very little work from Jack. “You got a name?”

“R-Rhys,” the intern replied, raising a hand.

“ _Reez_?” Jack scoffed, amused. But the kid was still meeting his gaze, and the CEO noticed he had an ECHO implant. Huh. Now, where did a scrawny little intern get expensive tech like that? About to pose this very question, his ECHOcomm rang briefly in his ear, and he turned his head sharply to answer it, never happy to be interrupted. “What!”

“Uh, sir, she opened the crates,” came the voice of the assistant who’d called him earlier. Cruz or Carter or something.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you fuckin’ _kidding_ me?” He turned and slapped the panel for the elevator with a little more force than was necessary, startling the intern into shouting like he’d gotten the slap himself. “I’ll be up there in a minute, are you competent enough not to get in the line of fire? Don’t answer that, I don’t actually care. Just keep her occupied until I get there, dickweed.” The elevator doors reopened, and he went inside to smack the panel again, hanging up on the assistant.

“Hammerlock,” he said into the comm, and the device paged his receptionist. She answered with a groan. “I want a list of everyone named ‘Reez’ in this building.”

“How about a list of the many reasons you should get a PA?” she replied, but he could hear her tapping at her keys.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just get me the list and send it to me, I gotta go wrangle a teenager so she doesn’t blow up Floor 51.” He hung up on her, too, leaning on the railing at his back again. That kid hadn’t seen the last of him, oh no. You don’t walk away unscathed after you _trip the goddamned president of Hyperion._

 

 

Rhys walked back to robotics in a blank haze. If the plug hadn’t been jutting into his back while he’d been huddled against the wall, he would have forgotten his phone entirely. Handsome Jack’s eyes were still burning into him, and he was glad he’d finally gotten his ECHO eye under control over the last month, because he wasn’t sure he’d still be alive if he’d mistakenly scanned Handsome Jack in the flesh. After tripping him with his stupid spider legs. The intern slowly lifted his hand to his face, prodding himself just a little, to make sure he was really awake, that it wasn’t just a very vivid nightmare. Nope, he was definitely solid and awake. Great.

Rhys slammed into his supervisor as she rounded a corner in the cubicle pool, and Rhys cried out, Maya dropping a stack of files and groaning. They both watched a few loose pages flutter flatly to the floor, Rhys fixing his glasses before she looked up at him Again he put his hand up in mock surrender, smiling nervously.

“Sorry, Maya,” he said sincerely, and crouched to help her pick things up.

“Why’re you so edgy?” she asked as she huffed a misplaced strand of hair out of her face. “You’re back early from your break. I mean, you usually are, but this feels weirder,” the woman clarified, rising with the majority of her files more or less back in place. Rhys set the files he’d collected atop them.

“No, its’ – it’s nothing,” Rhys assured her, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat.

“Well, good, because Gaige wants to see you.”

The intern grimaced slightly, and thumbed at the strap of his bag, shaking his head. “I don’t think it’ll pan out.” As much as he’d been fiddling with programs and studying Hyperion’s latest robotics, meeting with the famously young department head didn’t necessarily mean he’d impress her.

“Ever since you fixed that data entry program, you’ve showed up a few of our actual employees, so. Y’know. You’re turning heads.” Maya was a sucker for her ambitious interns. Rhys didn’t necessarily look like much, but he obviously had dreams revolving around Hyperion. She didn’t feel like she needed to tear him down, an urge more poignant with the wealthier interns, all family to high-ranking connections with superiority issues of their own.

Rhys smiled with more enthusiasm this time, straightening up after pulling his bag off and setting it near his desk chair. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s… not always a good thing,” she went on carefully, honestly, her lips pursed. The intern deflated slightly, chewing his cheek and averting his gaze. “But hey. Maybe you’ll get lucky. You get stuff done around here, which is good.” It was common practice for employees to humiliate and overwork the interns, but even while Rhys suffered like any of the others, most people had a hard time mistreating such an expressive and adorable face for very long.

“That’s. Something?” Rhys decided hopefully, and Maya smiled, a little haggard but earnest.

“Keep it up, kid,” she said confidently as she went back on her way. “And go meet with Gaige!”

 

 

After convincing a thirteen-year old not to use up all of the new equipment just to impress her favorite teddy bear (a Mr. Fuzzle McBangBoom), Handsome Jack got back into the Executive Box and pulled out the ECHOpad stashed in his jacket. Scrolling through his messages, he paused to open the latest from Ms. Hammerlock: the list of Reeces or whoever. Finally. It was a very short list, with only one name.

“Rhys. Rhys,” he said aloud, to try it out, quirking a brow at the spelling. Huh. “Intern, knew it,” he went on as he read the linked employee file. The kid had only started a few weeks ago, but apparently he was actually useful in the robotics department. His attention caught on another note, a mention of an ECHO implant, and Jack recalled the mismatched set of eyes that had so boldly met his. The glasses had distracted from the ECHO eye, that tricky little bastard.

Sneering slightly, he looked at the elevator panel. “Find this Rhys kid. Intern. Get me there,” he told the system, and it chimed softly in acknowledgement, taking a moment to process. The intern’s ID came onscreen, and Jack double-tapped it, waiting as the elevator processed where this “Rhys” currently was, the systems linked to badge sensors throughout departments. A while back they’d gotten a few complaints and suggestions about how it was an invasion of privacy, how it was paranoid and disrespectful to treat your employees like criminals that needed tabs kept on them. Jack had to have peoples’ teeth pulled out to reduce the nosiness and whining. People didn’t complain about the badge sensors anymore.

Brought to the robotics floor, Jack fiddled with the panel, pulling up a floor map. A small yellow light indicated the intern’s location, on the move. He exited the elevator and stalked forward. It was about time to have a chat with this kid. Or just strangle him, it would really depend on how much the guy talked.

Jack didn’t have to go far to find Rhys, coming across him around the first hall corner. The kid stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he stared at the man in his sudden appearance.

“Hello again, _cupcake_.”

Handsome Jack came right up to him, grabbing the front of his–sweatervest? God, what a _nerd._ At least the pattern was in Hyperion colors.

The brunet winced, setting his hand on Handsome Jack’s wrist wordlessly, hoping to all hell that he wasn’t about to get the tar beaten out of him. He was on such a good streak for not being physically tormented. Two whole days. He just wanted to keep that going, was that so much to ask?

“Why the fuck are you so light?” the CEO said, and finally took a moment to look the intern over. Rhys paled as Jack stared at the folded and sewn up sleeve at the intern’s right shoulder. That explained it.

Rhys choked on an attempt to speak. He’d gotten so good at distracting people once they’d honed in on his shoulder, but he couldn’t summon words while Handsome Jack was inspecting him. The short gagging noise he didn’t mean to make got his attention, though, the older man’s eyes snapping up to Rhys’. Rhys gripped the wrist in his hand tighter as he was walked backward into the hall wall, just barely out of sight of the cubicle pool. He hit the cold metal with a grunt, jaw clenched tightly as Handsome Jack continued to stare him down. This was much worse than before. The CEO had either sought him out or, for lack of a better phrase, stumbled across him again. And he didn’t look like he was in the middle of something else this time. Rhys was the center of attention.

“I like your face,” Handsome Jack said offhandedly, after an agonizingly long silence with his fist still bunched up in Rhys’ sweatervest.

Rhys’ lips twitched, and he furrowed his brow. “…Sorry?” Maybe he’d misheard. The hand in his clothes relaxed, and Handsome Jack instead set his palm flat on Rhys’ sternum to keep him in place, bringing his other hand up to lift Rhys’ glasses, squinting at his ECHO eye. Rhys laughed nervously on reflex, quiet. “Uh.”

“You use this thing a lot?” Jack asked him, eyes narrowed as he looked the blue iris over, curious. “Not bad tech, little outdated. Where’d you get it?”

“I. It was an experimental procedure,” the brunet began carefully, recovering a bit from his initial panic. “I… volunteered.” Why did he feel like he was lying? He wasn’t, it had all been eager volunteer participation. Of course, he was less eager when the anesthetics wore off halfway through the first surgery, but. That wasn’t what Handsome Jack was asking. “It was a few surgeries, I just. I wanted… I wanted to…,” he went on, voice petering out as Jack leaned in closer to him. “To.”

“To what, pumpkin? Chop, chop.”

“Get hired,” he admitted carefully, unable to look away from the man’s eyes. _Wow_ , that was an intense green, a bright blue. “Here. Hyperion.” Oh god, he was inches away, this was the most surreal experience of his life – aside from the first time he’d opened his ECHO eye. He didn’t think much about his cybernetics like this anymore, but it seemed Jack was a strange influence on his thought process.

“Huh,” the CEO said plainly, looking at the ECHO eye implant again, fascinated. Cute face, good tech, stupidly long legs… Alright, so maybe he was reevaluating the situation. Maybe the way this guy was looking at him wasn’t brand new, clearly terrified but evidently still in awe, but it looked so good on him. Jack had to wonder if he looked any better _not_ about to piss his pants. Grabbing Rhys’ chin, he turned the kid’s head slightly, inspecting the small metal ring at his temple. “And what’s this?” he went on, pulling the intern’s glasses off entirely to get a better look, keeping his head still. Rhys was about to say something when Jack pressed at the port with his thumb.

Rhys screamed, wrenching away and causing his head to hit the wall as he covered the port with his left hand. The ache made him groan, but he stayed pressed to the wall, as if he could get any further away. Realizing what he’d done, he sucked in sharply and held his breath, eyes wide as he stared mutely at Handsome Jack, the older man slowly lowering his hand. Handsome Jack notoriously didn’t touch many employees without inflicting bodily harm, but even so, it seemed like an unspoken rule not to try and escape him when he did. Oh god, he could see the looks on Vaughn’s and Yvette’s faces when they heard his _stupidity_ had gotten his _stupid_ implant yanked right out of his head. “…I. I-I’m sor–!” he began, finally finding his voice, though it was rough from his dry throat.

“Rhys, right?” Handsome Jack interrupted, smirking slowly.

After a beat, Rhys nodded, hoping he wasn’t shaking in his boots.

“That’s terrific, juuust terrific!” Clapping Rhys on his empty shoulder, he grinned, wild. “Good talk, good talk, keep up the good work.” He turned, then, and went quickly back down the hall, disappearing with a flourish.

Rhys was left staring blankly after him, his heart banging against his ribs and his skin hot. Had that really just happened? Was he having some garish hallucination? He really hoped not, because that would surely mean visual hallucinations were now accompanied by ghostly physical sensations. He could still feel where Jack had held his head, his face. Absently, Rhys rubbed where his right arm used to be, where Jack had last touched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so ready to thoroughly wreck you guys I'm getting there it's gonna happen just you fucking wait


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch dates are totally not overrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [quietly screaming about how neat you guys are and the feedback and also these Hyperion weirdos]

Halfway up to his office, Jack paged his receptionist with a statement of her name. He didn’t have to wait long for her to pick up, though he didn’t give her any time to speak. “I want that Rhys kid’s entire work history. Not just the crap on his resume, I want _everything._ ”

Ms. Hammerlock couldn’t get a read on what Jack was doing, what this uncharacteristic tone in her boss’s voice would lead to. He was impulsive by nature, which meant more than just violent outbursts. She figured whatever he was thinking would spell a lot more attention for the pretty boy intern down in robotics, but whether it would end up being good or bad, only time would tell. “Alright,” she said shortly, professional as always. Jack’s contented sigh made her more suspicious. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Jack answered vaguely, and flopped his hand around on his wrist to convey mild disinterest, and though Hammerlock couldn’t see him, she sensed falseness in his tone. “I want his personal history, too. Where he went before grad school, how long he’s lived in town, stats on his implanted ECHO tech. And, uh, get better lighting in that department, it’s so fuckin’ dark all those nerds will need eye surgery by the time they’re 35,” he said as the elevator doors opened at his floor, looking over his shoulder at his receptionist as he passed her, hanging up to talk to her normally. “And get me his address,” Jack added, just before his office doors closed.

“As you wish,” Ms. Hammerlock drawled, rolling her eyes and pointedly hanging up on her own end.

 

 

“Bullshit,” Yvette said, though it held less disbelief and more excitement. “You can’t be serious.” She didn’t work for Hyperion, though she had put in for a position in requisitions there as soon as she’d heard Rhys had gotten his internship.

“He gave me a fucking heart attack,” Rhys mumbled, his misery mixed with some kind of sick thrill. His port was always sensitive, and it hurt when it was touched, but still. It had been Handsome Jack touching it. _Handsome Jack._ That was kind-of a big deal.

“Oh, gross, get that smile off your face, you perv,” Vaughn said, giving his best friend’s leg a light kick under the table and getting a short, awkward laugh in response.

“Ow,” Rhys joked, but made a point of smiling wider to annoy him.

It was a standing date for the trio of friends to meet up and eat junk food while playing card games. At that moment, Rhys was sipping on a cocktail Yvette had mixed, fondly nicknamed “the liver luller,” containing a high amount of vodka and only a small amount of syrup and soda. Yvette had mixed herself a different cocktail, a more bitter combination one could actually successfully order in a bar. Vaughn was only downing orange juice at lightning pace the carton still set on the counter behind him, waiting to be emptied. Between them there sat a bowl of tortilla chips and some sort of sweet salsa that Rhys always forgot the name of. But it was one of Yvette’s favorites, and if there was one way to guarantee she’d keep her night open for them, it was to promise her good food and booze.

“That’s weird, though, that he just… wasn’t mean,” Yvette said with a thoughtful frown, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. “I guess ‘mean’ is pretty generous, but you get it. He didn’t beat you up or fire you. Isn’t that sorta his thing?”

“Or kill you,” Vaughn put in, very serious.

“It’s nothing, he just liked my cybernetics,” Rhys said with a shrug, taking up his fork again and busying his mouth with eating a chip. “That’s all.”

“Sounds more like he liked your _face_ ,” Yvette mumbled in the same dismissive way, shrugging more dramatically and taking a bite of her own chip, currently only a conveyor for the delicious salsa. Rhys’ dorky little smile was satisfying.

 

 

“Yeah?” Rhys said as he opened up his work ECHOcomm, forcing himself to pull his attention away from a side project he’d been working on when he wasn’t being handed things to do for higher-up employees. Every Hyperion employee and intern was issued a work-use ECHOcomm, separate from their personal devices. It was expected that one’s work comm took priority both on and off hours. Rhys took this rule very seriously in an attempt to keep in the company’s good graces. He did want to work there as a real, paid employee one day. The robotics receptionist looked at him from the comm’s screen with a confused frown, making him mirror the expression. “Are… you okay?” he asked, lowering his stylus.

“Uh, Handsome Jack is here,” she began carefully, and Rhys could hear the CEO chuckling somewhere in the woman’s vicinity. “And he wants to see you…?”

“Tell him he’s welcome. Y’know, for the uh, those lights,” Handsome Jack said, somewhere off-screen, and the receptionist nodded at Rhys pointedly, her eyes widening enough to indicate her rising anxiety.

“Wh—the new lights in here?” Rhys asked, the question he’d had since that morning finally being answered. The light was brighter now, better distributed. It made it easier on his natural eye, that was for sure. He didn’t realize he was gaping up at them until the ECHOcomm made a strange noise. Looking at his screen again, he yelped in surprise. “Oh, I—Handsome Jack!” he blurted lamely. The man had cleared his throat, which Rhys apparently confused with a glitch error. “Sir,” he added hastily, feeling that heat crawling in his skin again.

“Come on outta there, kid,” Handsome Jack said, the lips of his mask pulled into a smirk, clearly pleased with Rhys’ reaction. “Let’s do lunch.”

 

 

Rhys stood outside the department doors, staring at Handsome Jack, who was leaned with his back up against the opposite wall. It was common knowledge that no one made Handsome Jack wait. It was… “bad etiquette,” Rhys had once read in an _Employee Incentive Memo_ in his work messages, warning Hyperion personnel not to trifle with Handsome Jack if they didn’t absolutely have to. He could vaguely recall a mention of condolences to someone’s family, and immediately exiting out of the message from sheer panic at the words “mangled” and “pancake” in the same sentence.

But Jack didn’t look angry, nor mildly annoyed. He even flashed a smile, approaching the intern with his thumbs hooked over his hips, a gesture often portrayed on the Hyperion-issued motivational posters that Rhys was all too familiar with. “Hey, kid, took you long enough. Walk with me.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead turning on his heel and dropping his thick arms at his sides, walking with that intimidating air about him again. Rhys took a moment to comprehend, but he was quick to catch up, able to match his stride only thanks to his long legs. Every other part of him was too busy pulsing with heavy nerves, and he was sure his legs would start shaking if he didn’t give them something to do.

“…Where are we going, sir?” Rhys asked carefully, looking around as they stepped into an elevator, heading down with the quiet hum of the elevator’s machinery.

“Place called Shiner’s, real classy,” Jack answered, inclining his head.

“Classy,” Rhys repeated nervously. “I, uh. I don’t exactly. Have.” He glanced down at his clothes. He was pretty sure his sweater-vest wouldn’t be considered “classy” in any sense of the word. “Nerdy” might have been a better way of putting it. Really, he wasn’t even dressed the way he wanted to be, but he’d had these clothes for several years, and grad school wasn’t exactly cheap. Spending money on less… outdated or dorky clothes hadn’t been high on his list of priorities. Until now. Rhys didn’t realize he was being watched until Jack laughed.

“You coming?” the older man asked with raised brow, standing outside of the elevator on the ground floor, one hand holding the doors open. “Or are you gonna stare at your nerdy get up all day?”

Pressing his lips together tightly, Rhys resisted the urge to defend his clothes. At least they were comfortable. Instead of retorting, however, he quickly stepped out of the elevator and cleared his throat, busying his hand with pushing his glasses back up on his nose. He really needed a new prescription. He was glad his ECHO eye had the fantastic vision to make up for his human eye, or he’d probably be stuck with bigger, thicker lenses that he was pretty sure wouldn’t be any more flattering than the ones he wore now.

Jack was leading him down the city streets, now, and it was all Rhys could do to keep up, hot on his heels as the man easily parted passers-by. People instinctively moved out of his way on the sidewalk, whether they were paying attention or not. People on their phones edged toward the curb, their conversations momentarily lulled as Jack’s magnificent and imposing presence moved past them. People probably in much bigger rushes than himself or Jack spun on their heel to dodge the three foot radius Jack had around him, skirting past with their gazes downcast.

The term “intimidating” wasn’t nearly good enough to describe the way he owned the street. Rhys was genuinely in awe, heat stirring in his belly and ghosting over his cheeks. He took some pride knowing that he was about to join the man for lunch, when people on the street looked like they were watching a god in the flesh walk by. Just when Rhys was starting to find some kind of confidence, reminding himself that he really had been invited out with Handsome Jack himself, they turned a corner, and the sign for “Shiner’s” came into view.

Oh no.

His _slacks_ made him feel underdressed.

“This is _way_ out of my pay grade,” he mumbled to himself, but Handsome Jack looked over him with a raised eyebrow.

“What’re you talking about, princess?” Jack laughed, and slapped a hand a little hard on the younger man’s back, getting a soft grunt out of him. “’S my treat. Call it a perk for being a damned good intern.”

“What? Whoa, whoa. Wait,” Rhys said with disbelief, stopping a ways away from the restaurant’s entrance. Now, something to note was that Rhys could often forget where he was and just who he was talking to when it came to social status. He was fantastic at bullshitting corporate shitheads, putting up with harassment, and doing what he needed to do to get where he wanted to be, but sometimes that whole “remembering your place” thing was trumped by other thoughts or emotions. Now was one of those times. “No way, I can’t – I can’t do that, I don’t think they’ll even let me inside.”

Handsome Jack gave him a long stare, and the intern finally picked up on exactly who he’d just basically turned down.

“O-oh, I,” Rhys started again, heat creeping up his spine and flushing his cheeks. Nausea tugged low in his gut. “I didn’t mean–”

“Cupcake,” Jack began, and his blank expression was replaced with a wide grin. The taller man slung an arm around his subordinate’s shoulders, earning another quiet grunt from Rhys. “When you’re with me, you can get in…,” he went on, leaning to Rhys’ ear, breath warm and a smug smirk on his lips. “ _Anywhere._ ”

 

 

Jack had been right, of course. No one would challenge infamous Hyperion CEO Handsome Jack or his guest when they granted you their presence at your restaurant. The host hadn’t even hesitated to smile and bring them to a table. Rhys was seated across from said CEO, staring awkwardly at the menu set in front of him, while Handsome Jack had no trouble simply scanning it, taking his time with his menu at just the right angle to occasionally glance up at the younger man. Rhys was even afraid to pick the menu up. What if he ruined it somehow, how was he going to get away with his standard nervous clumsiness? There was no way he could lift it up and try to look through it like Jack was, anyway, one-armed or not. What if, just in picking the damned thing up, he twitched and sent it flying across the room? _Oh sorry, just an anxious weirdo with one arm and no idea what to do with himself, haha, my bad, sorry Baron von Kraftwerk._ Or something.Like that would fly at a place with three forks and a maître de with a fucking tuxedo on.

“You look tense, kid,” Jack commented with a snort, lowering his menu completely. “What, think they’re gonna throw you out for ordering?”

“Uh. Well, no,” Rhys admitted, though he frowned and finally looked up at Jack. It was embarrassing how startled he was to find he was being watched so intently. He cleared his throat and put on his well-practiced Hyperion confidence, hoping it would somehow work. This meant he sat up a little straighter, squared his shoulders, and lifted his head more, like someone who maybe knew what they were doing. He rested his forearms on the edge of the table as he opened the menu on the table to investigate it properly, which he should have realized he could easily have done before he’d started internally panicking. Annoyingly, his nerves activated his implant, and he scanned the stupid menu, learning what materials it was comprised of and when it was printed. “Stop it,” he hissed to himself, under his breath, but again he seemed to underestimate the older man’s hearing, and glanced up to see he had an eyebrow quirked. “Uh. N-not you. It’s. My. The eye, it scans things without… uh, without prompt. Sometimes.” A lot. He was working on it, so sue him.

“Uh-huh.” Jack folded his menu up entirely, smirking now as he set it aside. He set his own arms on the table, folding them and leaning in a little more. “Thing’s gorgeous. You get maintenance a lot?” he asked, again seeming to focus on Rhys’ eye, pleased the intern had brought it up himself.

This was… a relief. Okay, so he wasn’t likely being had, Handsome Jack just wanted to know more about his cybernetics. That was fair, he was pretty unique, even at the Hyperion headquarters. He’d thought it would make him more like the employees when he’d first opted for the surgeries, but it turned out he was more or less one of a kind even here. “Uh, not as much anymore. It’s, it can be expensive, but there are a lot of repairs I can do myself.” He could do some software tweaks and flashy tricks, but he couldn’t get at the hardware. He figured he didn’t need to explain–

“Liar.”

Rhys blinked, dumbstruck. “Sorry?” he said, confused.

“You gotta get that shit maintained regularly, dumb-ass, and there’s no way you can work on your goddamned _eye_ by yourself,” Handsome Jack elaborated, frowning just slightly. But it was still a frown, which generally indicated negative emotions in your standard human. Not that Rhys could even imagine Handsome Jack being “standard” in any sense of the word. Rhys just hoped it wouldn’t be negative for long. “Who’s your tech?”

“I–”

“Who’s your tech, doing your maintenance?” he pressed a little more forcefully, making Rhys sit up straighter again.

“Jasper,” Rhys answered shortly. “He, uh. He actually works for Hyperion, just at a distance location. I mean, it’s still in Helios, it’s just on the end of town closer to my current apartment. It’s not that big a deal, seriously, I’m just–”

Jack held up a hand to silence him, and Rhys obediently shut his mouth, a little anxious he’d somehow pissed him off. But Jack just pulled his ECHOcomm out of his pocket and hit the speaker button.

“Yes, sir?” Ms. Hammerlock answered, the sound waves of her voice displayed on the small screen.

“Pull up files on a Jasper, in cybernetics. I wanna have a chat with this guy. He’s dickin’ around with some serious goods and he’s takin’ this kid for a ride,” he told his receptionist, glancing to a wide-eyed Rhys and smirking a little at his expression.

“Got it,” she replied, and hung up.

“Same guy for your software?” Jack asked, putting the ECHOcomm away and setting his arms on the table again, pleased with Rhys’ mortified face. “Hey.” He whistled shortly, as if calling a puppy’s attention. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Rhys answered, suddenly wary of the entire situation. This was a weird version of someone being interested in his cybernetics. No one had cared how his tech handled seeing him before. Most of them brushed it off if it sounded like it was all in working order.

“Good. Hammerlock will deal with that.” Jack flashed a feral grin at Rhys for a moment, but turned his head to look at the approaching server, a pretty young woman with her thick dreadlocks pushed up and back with a simple but elegant headband. “Porterhouse. Rare. And a double whiskey, neat.”

The woman smiled, and looked to Rhys. “And for you?”

“I. Uh,” Rhys said awkwardly. He’d been too distracted to ever actually look at the menu. “The. Uh.” He scanned the menu again, this time for the text. His eye offered him something familiar. “The penne, please. And just. Just water. Thanks.”

Taking their menus, the server walked off, leaving the two completely alone again. The other patrons were on the other side of the restaurant. Was it just Rhys, or were they actually seated in isolation on purpose?

“Could I…?” Rhys began, and Jack watched him with that same smirk still in place. “Could I ask what’s… what’s going on?” he eventually managed to piece together, only meeting his gaze after he’d decided it was safe. Jack hadn’t shown any signs of being angry yet. Or violent. Or a combination thereof. If anything, Rhys was becoming steadily less ashamed of his maybe immature hero worship, the worship he’d been warned to be wary of from day one of interning at Hyperion.

“We’re having lunch. We’ll get our food, eat it, have a drink or three, maybe. Y’know. Lunch,” Jack answered with a low chuckle. The kid was cute when he was perplexed and inquisitive.

Rhys dared to give him a dry look. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Look, kid.”

Handsome Jack leaned in again, one foot under the table slowly edging forward until it bumped into Rhys’. Rhys, thinking it was an accident, habitually moved his foot back a little. He was used to his long legs getting in the way, after all. Especially in Handsome Jack’s way. Oh, god.

“You’re a loyal, diligent, adorable little nerd,” he went on slowly, and slid his foot toward Rhys again, until he was once more touching the younger man’s shoe with his own. This time, Rhys didn’t move away. “And I…,” Handsome Jack leaned a little further in this time, and Rhys became acutely aware of just how small the little two-person table was. Intimate, even. “Wanna spoil…”

“Um,” Rhys said quietly, frustrated with how inarticulate he was being. He wasn’t actually this dopy all the time, but of course he had to be when he was with Handsome Jack, his idol, his hero, his recurring fantasy. It was totally unfair.

“The everloving…,” Jack went on, and was quite pleased to find the intern was leaning in as if mirroring his motions. “ _Fuck_ outta you,” the CEO finished, voice quiet and low, and if he were any good at reading people, which he was, he would say that little Rhysie wasn’t exactly put off by his words. Jack hummed appreciatively as he watched the kid’s Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow.

 

 

Just after they returned to HQ, Handsome Jack did something completely unexpected. The two were standing in the elevator, on their way back up to Rhys’ floor, when the elevator stopped without opening its doors. Confused, Rhys looked at the wall panel, finding no sign of an error or malfunction. But Jack was unconcerned, turning to face the younger man fully.

Like a gentleman to a lady, Handsome Jack took Rhys’ hand and set a kiss on the back of it, grinning deviously at the blush that spread over the intern’s face because of it. But he didn’t stop there. He bent slightly again, and set a trail of kisses up Rhys’s wrist, using his other hand to push his sleeve up slightly. Rhys was torn between pulling his arm back and whining with unexpected arousal, but all that he was able to manage was a soft wince and his teeth digging into his lower lip.

Jack turned his arm to put it palm up, and set his lips on the paler, softer skin of his wrist there. With a few choice sucks and laving of his tongue, Handsome Jack gave him a single bruise. The mark throbbed gently as Jack pulled away again, and while Rhys was recovering, he leaned in and took a hold of the younger man’s jaw. The motion was firm but not violent, something Rhys was briefly expecting before he was being kissed instead of throttled. Startled, he let out a small yelp, but Jack might well have swallowed the sound, because he was quiet again as his eyes slid shut and he instinctively returned the kiss.

Walked backward into the nearest wall, Rhys moaned softly, breathing in sharply when Handsome Jack’s hand moved from his jaw down to the base of his throat. But he didn’t squeeze, only giving a light pressure, as if simply keeping Rhys in place. He liked it, and apparently he was doing a good job himself, because while Jack pressed up against him, lining them up together, he could feel the CEO getting just as hard. Rhys tangled his hand in the older man’s styled hair, tugging only enough to keep himself grounded when Jack’s other hand was on his waist. Handsome Jack was sucking on his bottom lip with no shame before he gave it a simple, sharp bite. He didn’t break the skin, but it did make Rhys wince, a sound quickly quieted as Jack kissed him deeply again. Rhys was almost sure they were about to do something even more intimate in public, in a company elevator no less, but Jack pulled back from the kiss a few seconds later, watching Rhys at their close proximity with lidded eyes.

“This, I’m gonna get used to,” Jack assured him in a husky voice, smiling smugly at the brunet’s swollen lips. He brought the hand at Rhys’ throat up to brush the pad of his thumb over the shorter male’s lip before he eased off and away. “Don’t get used to that,” he warned him with a playful chuckle. “There aren’t _nearly_ enough marks on that pretty skin of yours.” And with that, he turned smacked the wall panel, the doors opening at Rhys’ floor. He headed down the familiar hallway that held the man’s private elevator, whistling casually.

 

 

Rhys expected to become completely incompetent at work the rest of the day, after having a strangely pleasant lunch with Jack. He subconsciously fiddled with his folded sleeve, a few minutes before he was off the clock. Rhys badly wanted to mess with his used sleeve, noticing the cuff slightly disheveled, likely from the moment in the elevator. A look at his wrist startled him, and he realized the bruise Handsome Jack had left was visible. He could only stare at it for almost a full minute, trying to process its existence. Looking at it felt strange, a cloying headiness briefly blurring his vision in his human eye. Come to think of it, he didn’t actually want anyone else to see his wrist. It seemed like a private reminder. For his eyes only. And probably Jack’s. He kept repeating Jack’s words to himself, under his breath, in his head, accidentally in his notes. _There aren’t_ nearly _enough marks on that pretty skin of yours_.

Which of course, meant that Jack planned to leave more marks next time. Which sort-of had to mean there would be a next time.

He skipped dinner that night, feeling an obligatory fullness for having eaten at such a lavish restaurant for lunch. With Handsome Jack. Vaughn had a routine on weekdays when it came to dinner. He’d been sneaking away after having a weirdly high-protein meal, and Rhys had yet to question it, unwilling to make his best friend uncomfortable if he was trying to keep it a secret. But it meant that once Vaughn was out, Rhys had the apartment to himself. That meant he could be in shock in private, without stumbling into solid metal workbenches and splashing himself with hot coffee when he wasn’t paying enough attention.

In his room, he took his clothes off and climbed into the shower, making sure he had the rubber cover over his port. It was habit, at this point, so it wasn’t that difficult to remember to protect his cybernetics. He spent a disproportionate amount of time staring at his wrist compared to actually washing off, but at least he had the decency not to fucking jerk-off at a time like this.

Though, one could argue it was a pretty reasonable time to get excited.

Clean at last, he dried off carefully, pulled on boxer-briefs, and collapsed in bed. It had been a weird day. A weird two days. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to explain this to Vaughn and Yvette like they would probably expect him to. He stared at the motivational poster over his bed – maybe he was secretly still a teenager, even after all these years pretending to be an adult – with Jack’s face on it. He was smiling, hands on his hips, a classic power pose, and the words beneath him read, “Hyperion and Handsome Jack trust you on the job!”

Rhys fell asleep with that face in mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys gets a shiny new suit and Jack brings up consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this first chunk of the chapter I really wish I'd put at the end of the last one, timeline-wise (just literally), sorRY HNNN

If it had been a weird couple of days for Rhys, it had been even weirder for Handsome Jack. Ms. Hammerlock didn’t seem interested in questioning it, simply powering through the weirdness that he spouted every now and then either through the ECHOcomm or walking around the office floor, passing her desk and talking with his hands before disappearing back behind closed doors. He’d gone to lunch with the kid, she’d gotten the information on the cybernetics mechanic he’d asked about, and arranged to fix the minimal number of appointments he seemed to have with aforementioned tech. With a few extra, strategically placed words (read: threats), she had him doing it free of charge. Jack had been strangely pleased to hear this when she’d informed him of the situation.

“Hammerlock!” Jack called loudly, instead of using his ECHOcomm. The receptionist rolled her eyes and rolled her chair toward the office doors, offering her thumbprint before they opened and she could lean over to look at her boss.

“What?” she called with less volume and more disapproval. “You have ECHO, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jack said hastily, and set his third mug of coffee down. “You got the kid’s address?”

“Yes.”

“Give it here,” he demanded, and waited as patiently as he could for Hammerlock to roll her eyes, get out of her chair, and come into his office with her ECHO pad. When she handed it over, he studied the address, Rhys’ work and study history, and his obviously outdated picture. “Ha,” he mused, smirking at his dumb baby face. “Kid got the internship the first time he applied. Why haven’t I heard of him until now? Look at this fuckin’ IQ, he’s smarter than any of those other infants working as interns! Hell, he’s smarter than the whole department.”

“I wouldn’t say that in front of the department head,” Ms. Hammerlock offered sincerely. She’d already read the whole file.

“Eh, Gaige is a big girl, she could handle it,” he replied dismissively, studying the intern’s current Hyperion photo. He looked both nervous and excited, which Jack supposed was a decent combination when you got the most elite internship on the damned planet. His glasses were crooked. “Who’s his supervisor?”

“Maya. The blue-haired one.”

“Ah, I remember her. Sharp kid, sharp kid. She treating him right?” The look Jack gave Hammerlock had the woman narrowing her gaze just slightly before she answered.

“I’ve never known a dissatisfied robotics intern,” the statuesque woman replied smoothly, quirking a perfect eyebrow.

“That’s what I like to hear. Mostly. Long as no one’s stepping out of line due to excessive delight or whatever.” He set the ECHO pad on his desk and kicked his feet up again, ignoring Ms. Hammerlock’s disapproving stare. “What?”

“Nothing at all, sir,” she said simply, and turned to leave, uninterested in digging too deeply into the way he was so obviously covering up.

A few minutes later, after staring at Rhys’ awkward file photo, Jack smacked his desk surface, making his computer screen glitch briefly. He flipped on the ECHOcomm, hearing a hum from his receptionist in reply. “Send Rhysie some nice clothes. Kid’s wardrobe is undoubtedly stuck at what he wears now. Poor son of a bitch,” he told her decidedly.

“Sir, we may have his address and medical records, but I don’t precisely have extensive knowledge of his measurements.”

“Oh. Right, right. Make an appointment with the tailor on Fifth. I like that guy, doesn’t fuck around. Knows his place. And good ties. Kid’s got crappy taste in ties.”

“Of course.”

Hanging up, Jack leaned back in his chair and grinned at the high ceiling. “ _Nice_.”

 

 

The next morning, Rhys awakened with his head full of white noise. At first he thought it was just regular morning dream fuzz, but he realized it was his implant, the static effect in his vision most definitely not just imagined. “Fuck,” he hissed, and rolled quickly out of bed, misjudging the distance between his mattress and his dresser. With a short gasp, he slammed into it, effectively giving himself an unnecessary Heimlich maneuver with the added horror of stubbed toes. Wincing, he miserably crumpled to the floor. Most mornings weren’t executed this poorly, but apparently white noise in your head made sure at least a few of them would be.

Rolling onto his back, he glared weakly at the ceiling. The white noise faded, and the static in his eye glitched to a standard stillness. He experimentally scanned a few things in his room, making sure the error wouldn’t happen during the workday. At least he was off tomorrow. He could get assignments done. That would make it a lot easier to sort out the clutter in his room and make more lunches for the week. Despite his apparent appearance, he actually enjoyed cooking and was pretty good at it, too. Vaughn was even better, but he spent a lot of his free time either indulging in his secret or cooking, so it made sense.

Eventually, he coaxed himself into getting up and putting clothes on like a functioning human being instead of moping on the floor. He’d genuinely forgotten the majority of the day before until he was tugging his shirt on. Frozen, he stared at the hickey on his wrist, a slow warmth creeping up his neck.

Oh. Right.

He tried not to remember the way Jack had looked at him when he’d finished administering it.

Clearing his throat, Rhys quickly occupied himself with getting dressed again, finding his favorite Hyperion-themed piece of clothing – a modern and stylish vest, thank you – and sliding it on over his shirt. With a pair of Hyperion-appropriate slate grey slacks on, he took a moment to pull on his favorite socks. Rhys tried not to take much longer styling his hair, trying his best to keep it out of his eyes but still respectably attractive when he put his glasses on. He never had time to focus this much on his morning routine, but for whatever reason, he felt the need to impress today. Okay, so maybe debatably fashionable vests and pushed-back hair weren’t the best way to do that, but at least he’d look a little more appealing from the waist up when he poked his head around a cubicle wall or ended up sitting at the desk. He _did_ have a lot of paperwork to get through before he could finish up a few experimental code modifications with the ECHO projects he’d been allowed to work on. It wasn’t the best work, but it was still a reward for his small breakthrough the previous week.

Better than coffee runs.

Just after he’d put a bagel in the toaster for some semblance of a meal, he heard the mail alert pinging softly in his head. Brow furrowing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Nope, wrong device. Instead, he reached for his work ECHO, sitting on the kitchen counter, reading over the short email.

 

Cupcake

      You need a high class wardrobe to go with your high class date. I’m taking you to Hermann Seams at lunch. Wear those glasses. I like them.

               -H. Jack

 

Rhys stared at the email for a long minute, startled when his now lightly toasted bagel popped up. He turned the interface off, and went to put peanut butter and jelly on his bagel halves, tucking the breakfast sandwich into his bag before he picked up a travel mug with his overly sweet homemade latte inside. With only a small messenger bag slung over his shoulder and head, he left the apartment, locking it remotely with his ECHO implant as he walked swiftly down the hall to head to work.

Okay, a lunch date. With Handsome Jack. Calling him cupcake. Wait, hadn’t he called him something like that before? Cutesy, slightly condescending? Whatever, that wasn’t important, what was important was that Handsome Jack – _Handsome fucking Jack_ – was taking him on another lunch date. And that he’d sent a message about it, giving him early warning. And that he’d called him “cupcake” again. And that he apparently wanted to buy Rhys clothes. And that Jack had called him “ _cupcake_ ” again. Those were the important things.

He could handle that.

 

 

“Are you freakin’ _kidding_ me with this?!” the CEO shouted, snatching the test results out of the cowering pyrotechnic’s hands, the project head standing on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder at them from her place on top of a chair. “What the hell is this, huh? I thought you told me we were good to go with this shipment?” he went on, scowling.

“Uh, t-technically, sir, Handsome Jack sir,” the tech began, unable to meet the much larger man’s eyes. Typical. “Crusoe told you that.”

Jack barked out a laugh. “What, you can’t take responsibility for your own screw-ups?” he snapped, and grabbed the man by the throat, getting a terrified squeal out of him. “Crusoe’s not the one running the tests, you skag-brained moron. You tryin’ to tell me your boss’ _PA_ should be held accountable for what _you_ royally mucked up? Right, I’ll keep that in mind when I send the condolences to your family.” His hand tightened, a sneer curling his lip as the man gasped for air, clawing uselessly at Jack’s wrist and fingers.

Rocking back on her heels, Tiny Tina clasped her hands behind her back, watching the display of aggression and power with little real interest, despite her manic grin. He could at least blow him up, that way it’d be fun for the both of them. But noooo, Handsome Jack was a strangler. Boo. The subordinate at the decency to die quickly, so once he was limp in Jack’s hold, she finally spoke up.

“You gonna go have a nice _chat_ with one o’ them _nasty_ bandits?” she asked him, smiling and continuing to rock in place atop the chair, while Jack dropped the dead pyrotechnic disinterestedly to the floor, panting quietly as his rage subsided.

“Aw, Tina, Tina, Tina,” he sighed, turning and pushing a hand up to ruffle her short blonde hair. The girl squawked and batted his hands away, hopping off the chair and moving to crouch next to the dead man. “Looks like I really will.” Straightening his tie, he cleared his throat. Anger looked great in his usual digs, but it rumpled suits. “But later. I got a date to get to.”

Poking at the pyrothech’s cheek, the head of Floor 51 nodded understandingly. “Gonna treat a pretty little shawty to some sweet pickin’s?” she asked, looking over her shoulder to grin at him.

“Exactly,” the man replied with a smug smile as he left the test chambers.

 

 

“What’s happening?” Vaughn asked disbelievingly through the ECHOcomm in Rhys’ palm. “What do you mean, you’re not coming to lunch with us?”

“Yeah, what gives?” Yvette put in, probably over Vaughn’s shoulder.

Rhys was arranging a few files to put into the system at his shared desk, about to take his lunch and meet Handsome Jack. _The_ Handsome Jack. “Look, I’ve. I’ve got an appointment,” he told them, thinking he should have come up with an excuse for them long before he was supposed to abandon them to let Handsome Jack… what, buy him clothes? That’s what the message had said, but it seemed like it was still some kind of nefarious plot. Handsome Jack was notoriously good at those sorts of things, after all. Rhys really hoped this wasn’t a bizarre, elaborate scheme to watch him suffer or something. Weirder things had happened.

“An appointment, really? You shouldn’t make those for your lunch hour, you jerk,” his best friend insisted. His pout was audible. “Well, it’s… I guess it’s okay. Will you be here tomorrow?” The disappointment in his voice made Rhys smile.

“I’ll do my best, Vaughn,” he assured him. “Look, I’ve gotta go, I’ll see you after work.” Hanging up, he rose from his desk chair and left his cubicle. He was so used to the motivational posters of Handsome Jack and Helios staring down at him both at home and in his cubicle that he didn’t consciously think of them anymore.

At least he had a somewhat private space. There were interns at Hyperion who didn’t have a flat surface to themselves at all. Rhys might share a desk, but at least one of the screens was his to work with. He’d been a code monkey for a long time, and upon arriving, he could only have dreamed of the server and html access capacities that Hyperion allowed him to dive into. You could hack and modify your own tech as much as you wanted, but it rarely beat the real thing. It was his long-time obsession with code that started to wear out his human eye, though, but now his specialized glasses might eventually be paid for in full. Of course, he could wear contacts, but they weren’t terribly comfortable, and he only saved them for special occasions during which he needed a less dorky appearance. He’d get eye surgery if he could afford it, but big chunks of his financial aid went to maintaining his ECHO implant.

Today he wore the glasses, the apparently retro wayfarer style, with the rims and arms in Hyperion yellow, warm brown on the inside. The right lens was prescription while the left was only specialized-strength glass, since the ECHO eye didn’t need zooming assistance. Normally, if Rhys was preparing for a date, he’d choose the contact option, but Handsome Jack had specified he wear the glasses. Maybe he had a thing for them. Who could tell?

When Rhys stepped out of the department, Jack was once again already there, though this time he was wearing a well-tailored suit, classic black with the impression of Hyperion’s hexagonal print over the shoulders, around the waist, and on either side of the trouser legs. The tie had the same traces of the honeycomb look, his shirt Hyperion yellow. Rhys typically took it upon himself to appreciate a gentleman’s wardrobe, trying to fit his own with stylish and attractive things while still keeping in mind his busywork. But he didn’t own a damned thing like Jack’s suit, and even if he did, he didn’t think he would look nearly as good in it.

“’S rude to stare, pumpkin,” Handsome Jack said with a chuckle, coming forward and lifting the younger man’s chin to press their lips together, his other hand still tucked into a pocket in his slacks. Rhys closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, Jack’s fingers on his jaw applying just a slight pressure. It was only a few seconds, just long enough for Jack to brush his tongue forward for a moment before he pulled back. “Now, come on.” He turned, then, and started down the hall without looking back, expecting Rhys to follow.

Follow he did. Rhys thought he must seem like a puppy, which was probably offensive, but Handsome Jack flashed him a pleased smile when he caught up with him, and suddenly Rhys didn’t really mind. The CEO wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, sighing loudly. “We’re gonna fix you up with something classy, kiddo. I mean, those pants?” He laughed shortly, shaking his head. “Out of style, haven’t you seen the ads?”

“It’s – I barely have the opportunity to look… not an overworked mess, I don’t really get to keep up with style,” Rhys insisted, frowning slightly. He never really realized he more or less pouted instead of truly frowned. But Jack noticed.

“Aw, don’t pout, cupcake, we’ll get you style _and_ function. How about that?” he said, caught between sheer amusement and being impressed by Rhys’ response to his fashion critique.

“I’m not _pouting,_ oh my god.”

“You are, Rhysie. You really are. Just look at that,” Handsome Jack assured him, cooing and laughing again as he pinched Rhys’ cheek. This made the intern grumble something about babying, and Jack’s smile turned from teasing to devious. When Rhys glanced to him for his quietness, he jolted at the sight of the older man looking right at him and grinning like a wolf.

“Wh-what’s that face?” Rhys asked hesitantly.

“I already said I was gonna spoil you,” Jack reminded him, and Rhys realized they’d stopped walking. Jack turned the younger man to face him, and once again Rhys found himself being walked backward into a wall. With a hand on either side of him, just about shoulder height, Rhys was boxed in against the wall with his palm pressed flat to it, Handsome Jack leaning in slowly, still grinning. “I want you, Rhys. You get that by now, I’m assuming. You’re a smart kid.” Rhys nodded slowly. “And history shows I get what I want. I’m Handsome fuckin’ Jack. But here’s the thing: I might get my kicks beating the shit out of disgusting low lives and disappointments, but I’m not really into sex and all that good stuff if my partner ain’t.”

Rhys blinked, looking at him uncertainly. “…What?” Brow furrowed, he curled his fingers against the cool metal behind him. “Whoa, whoa. Wait. You’re asking permission to, to, to.” God, this whole situation was making his brain short out. “To… with me?” He gestured with his hand, rolling it on his wrist to indicate the both of them, eyebrows raised.

“Basically. And I _really_ hate asking for permission, so what’s it gonna be, baby?”

He didn’t really have to think about it. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack’s grin widened just slightly, and he leaned in even closer, making Rhys press his head back to the wall. He could smell the older man’s cologne, see the detail in his mismatched eyes, an inconsistency in the green. Rhys thought maybe Jack would kiss him again, but instead the man set a hand on his throat, surprising him. Fear flashed in his mind for a split second, until Jack really was kissing him again. Deep and slow, Jack pushed past the younger man’s lips, Rhys tilting his head just slightly to accommodate their closeness, Jack’s chin pressed to his jaw.

It didn’t last too long, just as it hadn’t the day before or when Jack had greeted him only minutes ago, and when Jack separated them, Rhys took a deep breath. The hand at his throat wasn’t crushing him, wasn’t strangling him. If anything, he suspected his long-time hero had a kink for this kind of stuff. Even if it did freak him out at first, Rhys didn’t actually foresee Jack choking him to death in the near future. Handsome Jack met his gaze, smirking as he moved his hand up to the side of Rhys’ face, cradling his head and examining his features thoughtfully.

“That might be part of the package deal, princess. I like it rough ‘n tumble and shit. Even rougher than that, to be quite honest,” he told him, laughing sharply and curling his fingers in Rhys’ hair. He gripped it without warning, and Rhys gasped, but didn’t fight it, even though his heart was slamming into his ribs with what had to be enough force to break them. “Call it a fetish. Or a kink. I forget the difference, point is: I wanna spoil you fucking rotten, and I wanna fuck you ‘til you’re seeing double. All the time. You look like you’d get a kick outta that.”

Rhys nodded more carefully, mutely watching him at the angle he held him at. The answer seemed to please Jack, and he hummed, dipping to bite right over Rhys’ pulse on his neck. Rhys winced, closing his eyes and wondering what to do with his hand. Leaning back again, the CEO admired his handiwork, the indentations of his teeth still visible as he smoothed his free hand down Rhys’ waist. “Lookin’ good,” he said decidedly, chuckling. “Now.” Sliding back from trapping the younger man against the wall, he freed his throat and motioned Rhys toward him.

Dazed, the tech stepped forward, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. That was more exciting than he was yet comfortable admitting, and he was glad his slacks gave him a bit of room. Jack had probably felt his erection when they’d been pressed close, but he was pretty sure no one else needed to know.

“Oh ho, I like a man that can follow orders. We’re gonna have fun, you ‘n me,” Jack mused, wrapping his arm around Rhys’ waist this time, pulling him closer as they started walking again.

 

 

“I really don’t know about this,” Rhys said uneasily, as an older man with measuring tapes draped around his neck moved around him, seemingly appraising him. “Is. Are you sure about this?” he asked Handsome Jack, who was sitting comfortably in an armchair nearby, watching the way Rhys’ face scrunched when Hermann the tailor moved in on him and started using his tape measures. “Holy shit.”

“Eh, he’s the best in the business, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s. That’s really not what I’m—HOLY shit!” Rhys began, jumping when Hermann moved to measure his inseam. The man looked up at him with a disapproving, impatient frown, and Rhys cleared his throat, offering a sheepish smile.

Handsome Jack barked out a laugh, tossing his head back briefly, and Rhys felt even more out of place in the upscale suit shop. “Easy, princess. I said I wanted to spoil ya. Means I’m gonna buy you the best stuff there is. Besides.” He eyed Rhys appreciatively, his smile leaning lecherous. “The view’s real nice from here.”

“Ha, ha, I’m _so_ glad you like it,” Rhys replied drily, inhabiting the mindset of not remembering who he was talking to once again. But he didn’t really notice, and Jack didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused by it.

When Hermann had finished the measurements, he tapped them into an ECHO pad and went off into his merchandise, rifling through a few suit pieces on racks. Rhys took this as a cue to relax for the time being, and he groaned, stretching his arm up and flexing his fingers. Handsome Jack rose from his seat and stepped up onto the slightly raised platform as Rhys lowered his arm again. “What?” he asked uncertainly as the older man smirked at him.

Jack took hold of his jaw, and as he stood at Rhys’ side, he turned the younger man’s head to make him look at the tall mirror straight ahead. “See this face? It’s just adorable, look at you!” Jack teased, and Rhys groaned in disapproval, reaching to pry the man’s hand away, getting a laugh out of him. “You’re just fucking precious when you’re embarrassed!”

“You’re the one embarrassing me,” Rhys reminded him, his frown once again more of a pout, and Handsome Jack laughed, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and sliding fingers into his naturally wavy hair. Rhys sucked in sharply as Jack grabbed a handful of his hair and tipped his head to the side, but he didn’t argue as the older man mouthed at the side of his neck with a low hum. Rhys could see their reflection in the mirror, which only made the heat rising in his chest burn hotter. He grimaced just slightly, genuinely embarrassed that he was… really enjoying this. “Jack. Jack, it’s, you should – _fuck_.” He could see the CEO smirking in the mirror, and he moved to set his hand on the man’s chest, gripping at a satiny lapel. It seemed like Jack was about to say something, but the tailor made a distinct point of clearing his throat, and Jack looked at him in the mirror, his smile turning to a frown.

“Apologies, sir. I have a few options that are close to his size. His legs are quite long, however, I will need to tailor something to his specifications.”

“Perfect!” Jack chirped, and he released Rhys’ hair, sliding away in one fluid movement. He stood off to the side, making sure Rhys would be able to see himself in the three mirrors that had shown the many angles of Jack enjoying his brief moment of domination. Rhys didn’t mind the light ache in his scalp from the grip, standing still as Hermann brought one of the suits up to him. “Go on, babe. Let’s see it on you.”

“The dressing room is here,” Hermann supplied simply, moving to open the door for him, and Rhys followed him over, stepping into it and quietly closing the door behind himself.

He emerged a few minutes later, blushing slightly for the awkward length of the trousers. His legs really were too long, the hem above his ankles, revealing his colorful socks. Usually he didn’t let himself feel ashamed of his socks, since they make him happy, but now that he was being directly scrutinized by Handsome Jack himself, he was a little embarrassed about them.

Jack let out a low whistle, impressed. He came over as Rhys hesitantly stepped back up onto the small platform, glancing to the mirrors and frowning at his three reflections. He’d buttoned the jacket askew, so he began fixing them, having to focus again since these particular buttons didn’t accommodate his missing hand. It was then, while he was busy adjusting the jacket, that Jack’s observations moved to Rhys’ feet. Or, more specifically, his socks.

“Wow. Just wow, kid.”

Rhys looked up at him, brow twitching with confusion, but he followed the older man’s line of sight and froze. Oh, crap. No. No, no, no, he was really hoping Jack wouldn’t notice. He should have thought about this before he’d put them on that morning, but, no, he couldn’t have, he didn’t get the email until after he’d gotten dressed, shit shit _shit_ —

A laugh derailed his train of thought, and Rhys met Jack’s eyes with mortified silence. “Easy, sweetheart. What, you think I’m gonna chop your feet off just ‘cause you wore something cute? Damn, I’m not _that_ heartless.” Handsome Jack crouched, setting his forearms on his thighs and grabbing one of Rhys’ ankles, lifting his foot and nearly sending him off-balance. Rhys was still too terrified to speak, his cheeks and ears burning red. “Aw, they got little bees on ‘em!”

“I-I’m n-… I’m not,” Rhys tried to say, but fumbled over the syllables. “I–!” Handsome Jack looked up at him expectantly, and Rhys pressed his lips together, his mind fuzzy and uncooperative.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re scared,” Jack purred, setting Rhys’ foot back down and standing up again, coming in close. The two were so wrapped up in themselves that neither paid attention to Hermann, who was taking notes about the measurement differences. “I mean, obviously I knew that already. But. What is it, Rhysie? Why’re you so scared?” Jack asked lowly, smiling slyly as he came in close again.

“It’s.” Rhys cleared his throat, glancing sideways. “I just. I like. Fun socks. Is that so bad?” he asked, trying to channel that phony Hyperion confidence again so that he could maintain composure a little longer. As if he hadn’t lost it already.

“I never said it was bad,” Jack pointed out, and folded his arms. He did chuckle again, tipping his head slightly, appraising Rhys again. The younger male frowned. “You thought I would… what? Shoot you? Throttle you?” He paused. “Stop wanting you?”

Rhys’ tightened mouth seemed answer enough.

Jack laughed once, loudly, startling both Rhys and Hermann. “Aw, you’re a riot, kiddo, a goddamned riot.” He clapped a hand on Rhys’ shoulder, earning a jolt. “Adorable.” He stepped off the platform then, laughing more to himself and plopping back into the armchair. “Hermann, fix this precious son of a bitch up, I wanna get some food in him.”

 

 

“I still don’t get why you wanted to buy me a suit,” Rhys grumbled, sitting across from Handsome Jack at a bar where Rhys’ current clothing seemed right at home. “Or laugh at my socks. Socks go underappreciated, and I’m the only one that gets to see them, anyway.” And Vaughn, sometimes, when he had his shoes off at home.

“I told you, cupcake, so we can go out to nice places and you don’t look like you’re pissin’ your pants to be there.” Handsome Jack held up his whiskey and gave him an amused grin. “Besides, you’re with me, you gotta look like it. Don’t want any nosy bastards trying to say you don’t belong.”

That was a weird way to look at it. Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe Jack was preparing for what would come when word got out. Oh, wait.

Oh, no, no. No. Bad, that would be bad. Rhys’ eyes slowly widened as it occurred to him: if he was Handsome Jack’s date, the weirdest people would do the weirdest things. Jack’s other fans would be jealous. Rhys already had to deal with harassment from an asshole that shouldn’t be his boss, he didn’t want to deal with additional torture from strangers or more employees. He was already the office butt monkey, and he wasn’t even hired on yet.

Jack apparently could read whatever he was revealing in his expression, and his grin melted into a scowl.

“What, uh. What’s with that face, pumpkin?” he demanded, leaning forward and setting his glass down. “You’re lookin’ a little less than excited. I mean, c’mon, how often do you get a shit ton of free stuff _and_ the chance to get with all of this?” he went on, and made a grand gesture to himself, smirking for emphasis.

Rhys fidgeted. “It’s nothing, just stupid stuff,” he said with a sigh, and picked up his water glass, starting to drink it down.

“And another thing,” the older man began, scowling again, “what’s with the cheap drinks? Water? C’mon, sweetheart, you ain’t paying. The idea’s that you treat yourself to the good stuff.” Rhys slowly lowered the water glass, looking at Jack with furrowed brow. The CEO raised an arm, whistling sharply and waving a server over. The young man looked frazzled but in awe as he recognized Jack. “Yeah, hey, kid. Get me – what, what is it you like, rum? Cocktails?” he began, and looked to Rhys for an answer.

“Uh–”

“You look like a screwdriver kinda guy. Screwdriver,” Jack decided, and the kid nodded, scurrying off to fill the drink order. Rhys’s eyebrows were raised by the time Jack looked back to him. “What?”

“I, uh. No, it’s nothing.” Rhys smiled faintly, a little amused.

“Nah, nah, no, don’t ‘nothing’ me, what was that look?” Jack said, frowning impatiently, but for once, Rhys didn’t think he was going to explode with rage at any moment. “What?”

“I have no idea what a screwdriver is, and it’s just, you’re. You’re so ready to give me things. I’m just not used to it,” Rhys eventually clarified, leaning back slightly in his seat, getting more comfortable.

“Christ, how many times do I gotta say it?” Handsome Jack rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, taking his glass up again. He finished it off in one gulp, and sighed with satisfaction. “I’m gonna spoil you. I wanna do it. That’s sorta the point.”

Rhys blinked dumbly, as if it all only just occurred to him. “Wait. Wait, there’s a word for this, isn’t there?”

“That’s it, there you go, c’mon, princess, you can do it,” Jack encouraged, tone on the border of mocking.

“Oh my god. You’re. You wanna be my sugar daddy,” Rhys concluded, and stared at Hyperion’s CEO with evident shock.

“Bingo, we have a winner!” Jack crowed, laughing and moving his glass out of the way so he could lean onto the table. “Finally got that, huh?”

“But I haven’t even had sex with you yet.” The intern pressed his lips together, still confused. Jack had mentioned wanting to, but wasn’t that supposed to happen a lot before a, a “sugar baby” or whoever got… rewarded? “Oh my god, I’m not a hooker,” he said hastily, swallowing thickly.

Jack laughed again, throwing his head back and slapping his knee like an old man. “Fuckin’ A, you can’t stop this guy!” he announced, incredibly amused. “Easy, sugar,” he said very deliberately, “no one said anything about prostitution. Only you.” But when he leaned back on the table, his smile was markedly lecherous again. “Not that I’m turning down any of that roleplay business.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re so _cute_ when you can’t figure me out,” Jack mused, chuckling and reaching across the table as Rhys looked like he’d been caught. “C’mere, cupcake.”

Rhys didn’t resist as Jack grabbed his jaw, leaning in to meet him halfway as he was kissed again, only setting his hand on the edge of the table to steady himself. Jack grazed sharp teeth over his lower lip, and he let out a quiet sigh.

“Um. Screwdriver?” a small voice said.

Jack rolled his eyes, pulling back from the kiss, but continuing to hold Rhys halfway across the table, much to the younger man’s astonishment. “What?” Looking at the drink on the server’s tray, he grinned. “Finally! Thanks kid, now beat it,” he said as he took the drink and set it on Rhys’ half of the table, even though he was still holding the younger man’s face with his other hand. Rhys apparently couldn’t figure out how to react to all of this, his fingers tightening their grip on the table. “Goddamn, babe. Look at that face,” he cooed, smirking as Rhys’ expression scrunched up the way it had in the tailor shop. “What’s wrong? Want me to let go?”

Rhys struggled to decide if it was a rhetorical question or a serious one. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Yes?”

“Kudos for being such a good boy about it,” Jack said smugly, but released his hold to watch the younger man’s eyebrows twitch briefly as he slowly leaned back to a normal sitting position. “You like that?” he asked, amused but sober.

Rhys stared at the drink Jack had ordered. He obviously wasn’t talking about that, but about what they’d just done, about the way Jack held onto him as he pleased. “Yeah,” he decided after a few beats of silence, and he picked up the glass of orange liquid, taking an experimental sip. It was pretty good, and he suspected it had more booze than it tasted like it did, which was generally how he liked his drinks anyway.

Handsome Jack smirked. “Good. We can have a nice long talk about it later.” With a wink and a grin, he finished his whiskey, Rhys quietly sipping his drink with a small smile of his own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys finally meets with Gaige, and Jack can't seem to resist tormenting him in public. Something shady is happening behind the scenes, as shady things are wont to do. Trigger warning for mention of cutting (not self-harm related).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not really edit this at all I apologize in advance I just kePT GOING

“You know, Gaige was disappointed that you didn’t show up,” Maya said casually a few days later, and Rhys looked up from his computer screen, blinking owlishly. His supervisor quirked a brow, giving him a moment to catch on, her lips tugging into a smile as the light clicked on in the intern’s head. “There it is.”

“Oh my god!” Rhys blurted, nausea curling in his gut. “Oh my god, she must think I’m some, some disrespectful flake!” He clutched at his hair, grimacing, and resisted when Maya pulled his hand down. “Oh my _god._ ”

“Easy, Rhys, don’t panic. I told her the truth.”

Rhys looked up at her miserably, fingers twitching on his desk, itching to fly back into his now mussed hair. Maya kept his wrist pinned for just this reason. “What did you tell her, exactly?”

“That Handsome Jack himself stole you away without explanation.”

They were quiet for a moment, staring at one another as heat crept up Rhys’ neck.

“Oh,” he said softly, eyes wide. “Right. That did happen.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied drily, and finally released his wrist. “Look, she wants to schedule a proper meeting, in case you’re randomly called away by the CEO again. She’s excited to talk to you, she’s pretty impressed by your work.”

“I’m just an intern,” Rhys mumbled, looking back at his computer screen in an attempt to hide hopeful pride. He rubbed at his tired eyes for a moment before fixing his glasses back up onto his nose. “Someone on the payroll’s got to have way better work.”

“Okay, the false modesty thing isn’t gonna work, hotshot.” She slapped him on the back with a smirk, shaking her head. The brunet offered a sheepish smile in return, clearing his throat.

“When does she want to, uh, meet?”

Maya tilted her head side to side and shrugged. “She was thinking something in the morning, so you can’t bail or anything after lunch and blow her off again.”

“I didn’t–!” he began to argue, and the blue-haired woman snorted, patting his shoulder.

“I know, I know. Keep up the good work, though. Really. That’s the impressive stuff.” With that, she ducked out of the cubicle and was gone.

 

 

The forms in front of him were blurring together, at this point. All of it essentially said the same thing, that the new shipment had arrived, that the faulty parts from the last one were being investigated for tampering, that the inspectors that had approved that last pieces were fired for incompetence… Jack sincerely hoped that “fired for incompetence” was up to par, he still found it hard to believe that some people didn’t use “fire” and “kill” interchangeably the way he did. Looking over the numbers, he pushed several pages into a file and tossed it aside. This was getting boring, he really needed a new personal assistant to read through all this crap for him. There had to be someone out there that he wouldn’t have to _fire for incompetence._

“Ms. Hammerlock,” he drawled, tapping the ECHOcomm on his ear. His receptionist hummed in response, and Jack sat up in his seat, pushing more papers together and deciding he never wanted to see them again. “Find me a goddamned PA, will ya?”

“Oh, at _last,_ ” the woman groaned, and hung up to the CEO chuckling in her ear.

 

 

“So I was thinkin’ we should bang,” Jack said offhandedly before sticking a bite of bruschetta-brushed fusilli in his mouth, eyes locked on the intern across the table. He already had one of the younger man’s legs trapped between his, easy to do in such close quarters, and he could feel Rhys’ startled jolt.

Rhys almost dropped his fork, but he managed to recover well enough to set it down, clearing his throat and tugging at his shirt collar. “Yeah,” he said, voice cracking despite his effort to be just as nonchalant. This earned a smirk from Handsome Jack. “Yeah, I was. I was wondering… uh, how you felt. About that.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack set his own fork down, picking up his wine glass instead. It hovered near his lips, but he didn’t yet drink. He absolutely loved watching his little sugar baby squirm. “I feel it big time. But there’s some stuff we gotta talk about, first. Important stuff. I might’ve told you this before, but in spite of my track record as a dashing and ruthless corporate hero, I like my partners more than willing. I like me some enthusiastic consent.” He took another bite of his pasta, and far from being done chewing it, he added, “You get me?”

Rhys nodded, and grabbed his wine glass with perhaps a little more zeal than was necessary. Nearly splashing himself, he clenched his jaw and held it more carefully as he took a sip. Jack had a habit of talking about these kinds of things whenever and wherever he pleased, which meant Rhys was starting to get used to private conversation regularly turning more public. Who was going to complain when Handsome Jack, notorious even outside of Hyperion for his violent streak and invulnerability in the eyes of the law, talked about sex in a public restaurant?

Nobody, obviously.

“And that being said, I wanna do a million bad things to you, with you, all that stuff. Big time,” Jack went on evenly, swallowing his food and never taking his eyes off the intern. Rhys nodded stoically, and the older man took a slow drink of his wine before continuing. “You got anything you know ‘s off-limits?”

“Off-limits?”

Jack chuckled, setting his wine down again and leaning onto the table with his forearms. “No-no stuff. Big turn-offs and crap. Kinda things you can’t get it up for. Shit that brings back real bad memories. That sorta thing.”

The intern’s breath hitched, and he searched Jack’s face, surprised by the phrasing but ultimately grateful for the seriousness in his eyes. Okay, that’s a good sign, right? He wanted to make sure Rhys was into what they might do, too. He could appreciate that.

“I, uh. I’m not… into bodily fluids?” he offered after a moment wracking his brain for something obvious. “Like. I knew this guy that was really into…”

“Piss?” Jack supplied with a smirk.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Good limit. Anything else?” Handsome Jack angled his head slightly, still smirking. The kid’s face was pretty intriguing when he was thinking hard. Looked like he was doing complicated mathematics in his head and the answers to the equations were just on the tip of his tongue.

Rhys fidgeted, trying to fight the strangely comfortable warmth in his chest, in his gut. It was much less that he didn’t want to talk about what he wouldn’t want, and more like he hadn’t really thought it through. As subtly as he could, he hopped on the internet through his ECHO implant and searched _weird fetishes_ before going through the list and picking one out. Then again, the soft glow of his eye was only subtle if you weren’t looking at him. Jack was staring at him. “Uh. Probably not into, um. Cutting. And. Stuff. But, I guess rough is fine. Actually, even… fun.”

Jack only continued watching and smiling at him. While it was unnerving, the comfortable feeling turned warmer, tugging lower in his belly. Jack sure got a kick out of staring. Rhys was starting to suspect _he_ got a kick out of Jack staring.

“Do we have to talk about this here?” the intern mumbled awkwardly, holding the base of his wine glass for something to do with his hand. The glow of his eye softened, the mechanisms returning to their standard stationary blue after focusing on Jack as he smiled sheepishly, hiding behind his wine.

“Yup,” the older man answered simply, sliding one hand into his lap. “Gotta cover this shit while there’s no pressure to do any of it. Much as I’d love to bend you over right here in this fancy restaurant, I’m not about to share our first time with anyone else.”

“Oh.” Rhys relaxed some, but was slightly concerned about the heat in his belly staying put even as he set his wine glass back on the table. Jack didn’t seem interested in any real pressure to have sex, which seemed somehow odd to Rhys. The man could have anyone in the world, get them to do anything he wanted with little to no outside incentive, and here he was, chatting casually with him – the lowest of low-level grunts, a goddamned _intern_ – about consent and wanting Rhys specifically. “That’s… romantic,” he noted with some suspicion, eying the man sideways. Could you have ulterior motives aside from sex?

With a short, barking laugh, Jack leaned further forward on the table, his hand sliding to Rhys’ knee and making the younger man jump again. “Who says I’m not a romantic guy?” he challenged.

 

 

This was it. His defining moment. He could make himself outstanding, make waves in the department, get noticed by superiors. He could mark himself as desirable for hire at the company of his dreams. If he could just open the damned door.

Rhys stared at the handle in front of him, fingers tapping nervously on the flap of his messenger bag. He kept pulling it forward and pushing it back as he debated the sort of entrance he should make. Calm and collected? Cool and calculating? What was the most Hyperion response? He tried to remember the tips Vaughn had given him.

“No, no. Snobbier. C’mon, bro, you can do this,” the shorter man had said, pushing Rhys’ shoulders to adjust them into a better square. “You already got the internship, you’re in. You know you’re not in trouble. Whatever this Gadget—”

“Gaige.”

“ _Gaige_ has to say, it’s gotta be good.”

Rhys ran several scenarios through his processor, thinking he needed to tweak a few more simulation programs to install in his implant for just these occasions. He could manage the boxy posture of masculine Hyperion confidence, but it was the expression he was most concerned about. Would the dopy smile he’d undoubtedly have to school into stoicism be that bad? Did he have to be serious right off the bat? At the moment, he was sure he looked like a frightened little kid trying to play ding dong door ditch and couldn’t muster up the courage to get through part one. His legs were fidgeting against his will, and he was just about to open the door when the ECHOcomm on the wall crackled to life, making him yelp and jump back, his arm up defensively.

“You’ve just been standing out there for like, five minutes!” a young woman’s voice insisted with amusement. “Just get in here already!” The comm went quiet as the door softly chimed, and a pigtailed girl that couldn’t even be in her twenties yet stood on the other side, arms folded and hip popped as she smirked at the intern.

Rhys blinked owlishly and automatically scanned her.

Her eyes lit up with excitement as his did with its electric blue.

“Holy shit, that is _Bad. Ass!_ ” she squawked, leaping forward and grabbing Rhys’ face between her hands. He hissed slightly, realizing the hand dangerously close to his port was metal. He’d known the infamous Gaige was augmented, but he hadn’t known which parts of her were now cybernetic. “Damn, dude, when did you get all this installed?” she asked enthusiastically as she looked the eye over. It was an entirely different encounter compared to when Jack had noticed his implant. At least it wasn’t terrifying.

“Uh, a few. A few years ago,” he supplied awkwardly, smiling lopsidedly and having no idea what to do with his hand. Gaige grinned widely, almost manic, but she freed his face and backed up, sweeping her robotic arm dramatically.

“C’mon in, cool kid! Haven’t met anyone under 35 with an ECHO eye implant,” she noted as she let the door fall shut and started down the short hallway to another set of doors, this one wider and with evidently more security. She scanned the badge on her hip, set to repel back into place when she let go. “That shit’s impressive. How much did you pay for it?”

Behind the doors laid the mystery of the experimental robotics lab, the department head’s office just on the other side of the large and segmented room. Rhys had to pause a moment just to take in the splendor of engineers, programmers, and experts that were tinkering with various unidentifiable pieces and parts at several tables. The lab itself was offset lower into the floor, leaving Rhys standing a few feet above and leaning over a rail to get a better look at what could only be a prosthetic arm just below him. Someone with protective goggles on was tapping at something on one of the joints, squinting and sticking her tongue out. Rhys beamed.

He wouldn’t mind this being his particular department.

“Hey! Cool kid!”

Snapped out of his daydream, Rhys looked over at Gaige, who was standing with one hand on her hip and another smug smirk on her lips. She was used to scatterbrainied behavior, but this was way better than the days she forgot her meds. At least this guy was cute when he was distracted. No wonder Jack was hitting on him. “It’s all pretty fuckin’ awesome, I know, but I wanna talk to you in private before I set you loose on my bee- _yoo_ -tiful projects.”

“I get to work on something?” Rhys asked in awe. Deducing this was all he had managed to process, mouth hanging slightly open as Gaige laughed.

“Holy shit, they weren’t kidding, you’re pretty frickin’ adorable. Come _on,_ Rhys!” She waved a little more impatiently, using her cybernetic arm to point toward the marked door across the lab.

They? Who was this “they?” The intern tried not to fret too much about it, figuring the rumor mill was to blame. It was getting a little weird to hear himself in the same sentences as “cute” and “adorable” at these frequencies, though.

She trotted confidently along the raised side of the room to get to her office door, Rhys trailing behind her and wishing he knew how to act like an adult around neat tech. He watched some of the engineers and technicians longingly, trying to picture himself in a lab coat and doing the work they were doing. Were boots that were actually in style appropriate in the lab? He’d hate to have to get an entirely new wardrobe—

Oh wait. Maybe he wouldn’t hate that… especially if Jack were there.

Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Rhys skidded to a halt just before running into the department head. Gaige narrowed her eyes at him, lips pursed, and Rhys seized up, anxiety climbing up his throat.

“…Did you forget your meds today?” she asked, very to the point.

Rhys had been asked such things before, but never with such plain sincerity. People preferred to mock him, but most of the time they didn’t actually know about his daily meds. Rhys turned hot pink, jaw slack as he tried to formulate a coherent response. He’d really fucked up this time, there was no way she wouldn’t figure it out. Maybe he shouldn’t have worked so hard to hide this detail in his records and on his application. There were worse things than ADD, right? Besides, the thing people tended to notice and hone in on was the whole one arm thing.

Apparently that wasn’t going to save him from a child prodigy with a cybernetic prosthetic that mirrored his missing arm.

“Cuz I mean. I do that all the time,” Gaige went on, blinking at him and leaning back thoughtfully.

“What,” Rhys eventually replied, brow slowly furrowing.

“I mean, I try not to make assumptions because people get offended or whatever,” she continued seamlessly, turning to scan her badge and open her office, shrugging. “But sometimes it’s like, kindred spirits, y’know?” Standing in front of her desk, she leaned against it, smiling brightly. “What’s that face? You’re making a face,” she said, smile faltering. What, was that too much? She was good at no holds barred.

Rhys tried very hard to erase whatever horrible, mortified expression he must have been wearing, and cleared his throat as he entered Gaige’s office. His legs were already having difficulty moving him along, but he did his best to coax them along, coming closer to Gaige and rubbing at the back of his neck. Sometimes he was surprised he still grew hair there, since he was sure he’d worried away the follicles a hundred times.

“It’s, it’s just. Uh. No one’s ever,” Rhys began slowly, gesturing in front of himself, making a circle by rolling his wrist. “Uh. Brought it up. Like that.”

Gaige smiled anew, giggling and shrugging again, the motion carrying her to turn and flop into her desk chair. She waved a hand at the armchair just slightly off-center before Rhys, and he slowly sank into it, pulling his bag into his lap. “It’s no big deal, but I kinda like that I’m not the only loser around here,” she teased, winking at him and picking up a pen. She played with it between her fingers, humming thoughtfully and looking at Rhys from below her eyelashes, lips once again pursed.

The intern wasn’t sure there was a correct response to that, but he couldn’t resist a small smirk. He’d been so afraid of the department head, but she was not only younger than him, but… sort-of messed up like he was. Even geniuses weren’t mentally one hundred percent, and that was relieving. Gaige could evidently tell he was starting to relax, because she grinned and sat up suddenly, pigtails bouncing as she slammed the pen onto the desk and got to her feet. Rhys jolted in his seat, instinctively pressing back.

“I’ve heard only good things about you, cool kid,” she said firmly, “and it’s good things that get you noticed!” The look of bewilderment on the brunet’s face made her crack a grin. “Whaddaya say we give a guy like you a trial run in the big leagues?”

 

 

Perched on the island bar stool, Vaughn sipped his protein shake and watched his best friend pace the kitchen. Rhys could be excitable when things were generally going well, and from the numerous accounts he heard every night after work, things were going very well indeed. Swinging one leg, he smiled as Rhys flailed his arm and had to catch the edge of the counter before he slipped on the linoleum.

“Easy, big guy,” Vaughn teased fondly, as Rhys grumbled and righted himself. “Y’know, you do live here. You can take your socks off.”

“I like them,” Rhys mumbled shyly, but moved his feet out of sight so Vaughn couldn’t see just which ones he was wearing. So what if the hot dogs were also dachshunds? It was funny! “Besides, I don’t actually fall over that much.”

“ _Au contraire_ ,” the accountant purred, giving him a knowing look. “You tripping over stuff is a pretty regular occurrence around here. I don’t know if you noticed, but I live here, too.”

“Oh, I _noticed._ ”

Vaughn laughed lightly, pushing his emptied blender bottle away. Falsely defensive Rhys was one of the best Rhyses. “But, I mean. You basically get to work in the actual lab, right? That’s pretty spectacular, man!” he said more seriously, genuinely happy for him. Rhys had to jump through a lot of hoops to get as far as he did. Vaughn thought he had earned this opportunity. “Wait, you _did_ say yes, right?”

Rhys threw his arm up, eyes wide. “Yes, oh my god! Vaughn, _please._ ”

Vaughn laughed again, longer this time, and had to hop off the bar stool and duck away when Rhys came to tackle him.

 

 

It was late by the time Rhys showered and got into bed, pulling out his phone. He’d missed a few texts from Jack, the kind he deliberately punctuated with too many emojis because he thought they were hilarious, despite using them with painfully obvious sincerity. Besides, texts with simple texting grammar that asked if you were going to dream about him that night and were punctuated with bashful emojis were not as convincing as “ironic.” Sure, Jack.

They did make Rhys flush, however, which was the real goal.

He set his phone down to get more comfortable, smiling triumphantly to himself when it buzzed again. Turning his head, he picked it up and squinted at the message.

[sleep tight, cupcake ;) got some business to take care of tonite, but im stealing u tomorrow, heard u got good news (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) xoxoxoxo]

Snorting, Rhys tapped out a reply before turning the screen off and letting his eyes fall shut.

 

 

If he never answered a midnight call again, it’d be too soon.

“ _What?_ ” Jack snapped into the receiver, the comm crackling momentarily. He really hated being disturbed when he was coding and flirting with his new beau, pulling his glasses off angrily and almost throwing them onto his desk. Couldn’t have a moment of peace.

“It’s me,” a calm voice replied, and Jack’s shoulders relaxed some, the man slumping forward onto his desk with a loud groan. “Aw, what’s that? You miss me that much? You know I’m only a few miles away.”

“No, no, no, just thought you were gonna be someone I’d be happier shooting than listening to. Whatcha need, babe?”

“Remember that sour order your explosives lead got in?” the woman went on evenly, and Jack slowly sat up, leaning on one arm. “Got your attention, hm? Good. Just wanted you to know I took care of the… situation. No more faulty shipments from our good friends at Dahl.”

A dark smile slid over the CEO’s mask, a chuckle following suit. “ _That’s_ my girl.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really sucks when your ECHO implants malfunction, but it sucks more when you break down about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic gore, panic attacks, and ableist language.

Coffee wasn’t really Vaughn’s thing. He didn’t care for the bitterness or just how much cream and sugar it took to mask it, but nothing beat the caffeine. Just to stay awake in the morning, he probably had three cups, as strong as he could stand it. Rhys was in much the same habit, though he usually took his travel mug as his second cup, stumbling out the door at what he’d called “the last second” over and over. Half an hour early to work didn’t really look like “last second” to Vaughn, but Rhys had always been timely. The accountant knew how his compensation worked. If it was one of the only ways for Rhys to get his brain on the right track, he wouldn’t argue… as long as Rhys also slept that night.

Occasionally Vaughn had to be the one to wake him up at a more reasonable hour and give him a ride, instead of letting him hustle halfway across town at seven in the morning.

Still half asleep, Vaughn shuffled to the coffee maker, touching the button that started to fill his cup, but his ears twitched at the sound of his name.

“Vaughn,” Rhys called out weakly, voice cracking.

Perking, Vaughn darted out of the kitchen and to his flatmate’s room, throwing the door open to find the taller man tangled in his sheets, trembling on the floor. “Rhys?” he said softly, coming to kneel at his sides, hands settling gently on Rhys’ shoulders as he pulled him closer. “Hey, buddy. I’m right here.”

Moments like these, Rhys was glad he didn’t live alone. It was one thing when white noise hung around for a few horrible minutes, it was another when his ECHO eye shorted out completely, leaving him half-blind. Again. It had been years since he’d gotten the implant, since he’d learned to adapt to minimal depth perception and needing to turn his head just a little more often. It had been months since his implant had stopped working like this, come to a grinding halt so unexpectedly.

The intern was on the brink of tears, a cloying and familiar panic climbing up his throat. He’d gone through this whole process for a reason. The surgeries, the waivers, the medication, the upgrades, the tune-ups, the _pain_ … Why would it act up like this? Hadn’t he been taking good care of it? Was it the system? The hardware? Did he need some kind of upgrade again already? Rhys didn’t realize how hard he was shaking until Vaughn gave him a light squeeze, urging him to rest his head on his shoulder.

Gripping at the back of Vaughn’s sweatshirt the best he could with his only hand, Rhys shut his eyes and tried to swallow his sobs.

It was a good thing he didn’t live alone.

 

 

Rhys was silent when he clocked in, allowing the ECHO pad to scan his badge and send him right to his floor. No one in the department seemed to notice him as he walked to his shared cubicle, and no one said a word to him until about an hour into his day.

“Rhys?”

Jolting, Rhys pushed back from his desk and held his hand up, eyes wide as he looked to his supervisor, who lifted an eyebrow at his reaction. It took a second for him to relax, and when he did, it was evident that his entire body had been tensed. Melting into his chair, he dropped his head back and groaned, dropping his hand over his face. He wasn’t hacking anything, he was not in trouble, he was not going to prison. Why was that his knee-jerk reaction, anyway? He’d never been _caught_ before.

“Hi, Maya,” he eventually sighed, voice raspy.

“Hello to you, too. I didn’t realize you’d come in, how long have you been here?” she replied, leaning against the cubicle wall and folding her arms. “You didn’t come in at the crack of dawn today.”

“I don’t come in at the _crack of dawn_ ,” he protested drily, rolling his eyes and pulling himself back to his desk, drumming his fingers absently. “Just… a few minutes after.”

“Uh-huh.” Studying the intern, the woman narrowed her gaze. Rhys was usually strangely excited or focused at work, though it wasn’t that odd that he was being a sarcastic little shit. Maya liked that about position. But something was a little off today. She was sure she wasn’t the only one who’d notice. “You psyched to work with Gaige next week?”

Rhys’ fingers paused, and his eyes slowly widened again. He’d almost forgotten. The position of a lifetime – even if it was just as an intern for now – and he’d almost spaced it. The look of horror on his face had Maya laughing brightly.

“There he is,” she said as she left, waving a hand over her shoulder.

 

 

“What—what is this?”

Rhys leaned slightly back as Handsome Jack leaned in to inspect his face, his glare unrelenting as he easily walked the intern back into a wall. The hall might have been empty, but a lot of Hyperion employees would be taking their lunch in mere minutes. Rhys had certainly gotten used to and come to somewhat enjoy Jack’s habitual displays of power, but when he wasn’t able to watch out for prying eyes like he normally could, he was a bit more skittish.

“What’s what?” he asked uneasily, looking off to the side as his boss set hands on either side of him, effectively boxing him up against the wall. The metal was cold against his back, but it was a decent contrast to the heat in his skin. Oh, would you look at that, the tiles weren’t completely aligned, there must have been an error when they installed it, and the contractors miscalculated the patterns—

A sharp whistle and fingers snapping in front of his face snapped Rhys out of his desperate attempt to distract himself, and he tried to smile as he brought his eyes back to Jack’s mask, the result something closer to a grimace.

“C’mon cupcake, what’s with your eye?” Jack demanded suspiciously, though there was teasing in his tone.

Dread sank in Rhys’ gut.

“What?” he repeated in a smaller voice, swallowing thickly. Oh god, oh hell, how did Jack notice? How was he supposed to answer that?

Jack held his jaw, and Rhys obediently stilled as his face was turned just slightly, brought closer to Jack’s. The older man squinted, trying to get a better look. Rhys couldn’t help nervously staring at him as he did. With his thumb, Jack lifted Rhys’ eyelid slightly, getting a soft whine as Rhys grimaced for real this time.

“Yeah, it’s all… dull or something. What’d you do, stick your head in a light socket? You know we got rid of that crappy technology for a reason, right?” Jack scolded, frowning as he let Rhys have his face back, despite making no other move to get out of his space. He liked being in it. Rhys didn’t seem to mind, either.

Rhys let out a shaky breath, looking away again, squirming. “What do you mean, ‘dull?’ What’s dull about it? I thought you liked my eye.”

“Eyes. I like your eyes. Get it right,” Jack said evenly, and raised both eyebrows at him, unimpressed.

“It’s always dulled when it’s not activated, when it’s not s-scanning anything,” he went on hastily, shivering.

“You got an explanation, or an excuse, or—what, what am I waiting for here, pumpkin? C’mon, bring me up to speed.”

Usually, the scrawny intern fidgeting and chewing his lip was cute. Endearing, even. Sexy. But while Jack wasn’t one to come right out and say he was concerned, he’d asked for a reason, and not getting one quickly wasn’t his favorite thing. Clearly a little incentive was necessary. With a sly smile, Jack edged even closer, bringing his body flush with Rhys’, the intern standing up straight in a split second, breath shallow. This sort of incentive could go one of a few ways, but Jack was banking on “in his favor.”

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Jack purred, inches from Rhys’ lips.

“It’s not working,” Rhys admitted unevenly, and cleared his throat, unable to focus on Jack’s eyes at such proximity. Not with his biological eye, anyway, and he’d just confessed the other was currently out of commission. He settled for watching the lips of Jack’s mask, so seamlessly formed to his face that he couldn’t honestly tell where it differed from Jack’s real skin, his real lips.

Silence hung between them for an agonizing moment, and Rhys bit back a wince when Jack finally leaned back. His scowl, however, made the younger man flinch.

“Why not?”

“I. I don’t know.”

“Does it do that a lot?”

Rhys’ expression faltered, and he pressed his lips together as he looked away again, brow knit.

“Rhys,” Jack said shortly, authoritative. Rhys looked at him again, despondent. “Tell me.”

“Not… always. I, I just—I _just_ had it serviced last month, I don’t _understand—!”_ With his voice cracking for the hundredth time that day, Rhys shut his mouth. God, he hated this. He felt like a teenager again, awkward and emotional and so _clumsy_. Grinding his teeth, he gripped at his tie, squeezing it as if it would help, would be some kind of lifeline.

Jack eased a hand over his, lowering it and laying his other hand against Rhys’ cheek. The gestures were so startlingly gentle that Rhys choked in his next breath of air, face screwing up as it had that morning, when he’d broken down. He was suddenly a frightened little kid again, bleeding in the passenger seat and screaming at the top of his lungs, flashes of stabilizers dying and the last time he ever again saw anything with his human left eye.

Leaning into Jack’s palm, Rhys let the older man quietly console him, hold him up when his legs gave out. He let whatever Jack was murmuring encompass him, even as he slid into another panic attack. Better Jack’s voice than screaming and broken glass. Better Jack’s big, warm hands holding him close than deafening silence replaced by sirens. Better than sheer terror and vicious heat.

Better than being suddenly very, very alone.

 

 

“Do you usually wreck your playthings so absolutely?” Ms. Hammerlock mocked curtly, quirking an elegant brow as Jack carried his unconscious boyfriend into his office.

“Not now, Aurelia,” he lowed, not even looking at her before he was gone again.

The woman stilled, listening to the quiet slide of the office doors closing again. She only looked back at them when silence fell, and a brief edge of concern pinched at the corners of her mouth.

Her first name was reserved for emergencies.

 

 

Waking came slowly.

Panic attacks might slam into him with brutal force, but recovering from them never did. It was an annoying and lengthy process, and he’d been lucky to make it to work at all. If it hadn’t been for Vaughn driving him up to the lobby doors, he would have stayed home. Or maybe he would have just arrived around noon, walking in a catatonic state across the city. Not that Vaughn would have let him. Rhys would have to remember to thank him again for putting up with his bullshit.

“Hey there, princess,” came a familiar voice, and Rhys blinked up at the polished metal ceiling before he sat up. Well, he tried, but Jack’s fingers splayed over his chest and pushed him back down. “’Bout time you got up. Didn’t know you were a fainter.”

“What happened,” Rhys mumbled, trying to piece together his day since his horrible morning. He did come in to work, he remembered that. Probably forgot his meds. Didn’t get a chance to eat, because instead he… “Fuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned, bringing his hand to his face again and keeping it there as he scowled beneath his fingers.

“You had wheat we in the medical field like to call a ‘major freak out,’” Jack went on, patting Rhys’ chest and sitting on the edge of the couch, where he could continue to reach the intern. “’Sokay though, I saved your pretty little ass and brought you up here to my sweet office. You’re welcome.”

Rhys refused to move his hand, cheeks burning red. Or course he panicked in front of Jack. Of course he did. That’s just the most attractive thing he could possibly do, right? Jack was _sure_ to stay interested in drama queen Rhys now.

“C’mere.”

Pulling Rhys’ hand away, Jack pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, humming thoughtfully. “You’re comin’ down from that fever, you big baby.” Rhys tried to cover his face again, but the CEO tutted, knocking it away and giving him a stern look. “Ah, ah, ah, pumpkin. Can’t hide from me.”

 

 

Rhys didn’t have to know about this. He would probably just insist Jack let it go, that Jack should let him sort it out himself, that he was a fully grown adult who could handle his own medical and mechanical issues on his own. He would probably blush like a tomato and squirm around under Jack’s gaze if he insisted any further, which was absolutely darling, but not very productive. So, Jack was going to do it without telling him.

No need to worry the poor little guy, after all.

Pulling up in front of the clinic — “Specialty Cybernetics LLC” (limited liability his glorious ass) — Jack took off his sunglasses, snorting at the font. Pretentious but not remotely classy. Amateurs. He’d want to tear them a new one even if he didn’t have a perfectly good reason, now. Very literally hopping out of his car, he held the fob up to lock it over his shoulder, walking up the steps and pushing the door open. No one would dare to touch his foreign convertible. A psycho from Pandora would know whose it was. No joy ride was worth a rusty pipe up your ass.

Entering the lobby, he walked right up to the receptionist, who was in the middle of a call. Leaning on the counter, Jack pushed his sunglasses to sit atop his head, and simply waited for the woman to catch a glimpse of him. The moment she did, her eyes popped, and she hung up without warning. The Hyperion president smirked as the receptionist called for the man he was looking for. Convenient for Jack that he was the director of the clinic.

Not so convenient for Jasper.

 

 

“That’s cute, real cute,” Jack chuckled, glancing over the files the cybernetics mechanic had handed over without argument. Private medical files. Not that anyone was going to sue. “This whole ‘nothing to do’ bit. Y’see.” Dropping the files on the man’s desk, Jack leaned forward in the chair, smile tight and eyes narrowed. “I’ve got the best robotics minds in the _world_ on site, and this crap doesn’t fly at Hyperion.”

“W-well, sir,” Jasper began, a cold sweat already on his brow.

“See, I’m top brass. Shit through the grapevine tells me that you don’t fit to Hyperion standards, Jasper. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask you _why._ ”

“The h-hardware is just f-f-fine, it’s his operating systems that keep m-malfunctioning,” the mechanic insisted, mindlessly wiping across his brow, dragging his hand back over his balding head.

The tight smile was gone, the CEO glaring now, already rising from his seat. “I’m not a huge fan of excuses, Jasper.” He laughed sharply, loud and humorless. “You could even say I’ve got no patience at all when it comes to BULLSHIT!” On his feet, Jack slammed his hands on the mechanic’s desk, composure slipping. The other man cowered, rolling back as he shut his mouth.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Jack chuckled lowly, sauntering around the desk and grabbing the back of the director’s chair, forcibly whirling him around. Jasper wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jack grabbed fistfuls of his starchy lab coat. “Why have you been feeding his systems viruses, Jasper?” he demanded through his teeth, baring them in a feral snarl.

If the man’s eyes could grow any wider, they did.

Jack knew what a man looked like when he’d been caught.

“I usually keep a beautiful long barrel pistol in this holster,” Handsome Jack said with sudden calm, using one hand to pat at the empty spot on his belt, dropping the man back in his chair. Jasper seemed to catch his breath, clutching at his heart and watching Jack in mute horror. “A sentimental favorite. But I didn’t want to give you such an easy out, you lowlife, spying, ugly SON OF A BITCH!”

With brutal force, Jack kicked Jasper in the face, forcing his chair to roll across to the opposite wall as the CEO caught up with him, eyes wild. Jasper was clutching his face, gasping in shock and pain, but he had little time to react as Jack threw him to the floor, kicking out again, landing on the man’s ribs, a satisfying _crack_ echoing in the spacious office. Jack didn’t need to be on familiar turf to dominate the bad guys. He was very, very good at heroics.

Knocking the heel of his boot into the small of the mechanic’s back, Jack leaned his weight onto him, holding him down and laughing shortly. “Never learn, do you?” A groan wheezed from the man below, and Jack tilted his head as if to try and hear him better. “Hm? Oh, right, guess you won’t be conveying that to your superiors.” Grinding down, Jack pushed the full force of his weight into the man’s spine. “But don’t worry. I’m not gonna cripple ya. I’m just gonna straight up kill ya.”

The mechanic whimpered, and Jack snorted, sneering. “And one more thing.”

Removing his foot, Jack crouched down, lifting Jasper’s head with what was left of the man’s hair. The bridge of his nose was flat against one cheek, the rest of his face an unrecognizable, purple and red mess. Good. His boss leaned to his ear to whisper the last words he’d ever hear.

“ _Don’t touch my things, kiddo. Especially not Rhysie_.”

A slight lift and a slam into the tile later, and Jasper, director at Specialty Cybernetics LLC, was no longer a problem.

But Rhys didn’t have to know about that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cuddles, shady dealings, and a surprise that backfires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a hell of a lot of incredible response to this fic and I am endlessly flattered and thrilled and thank you guys so much asldkjhgjasdfbk

With what he’s sure was some persuasion on Handsome Jack’s behalf, Rhys is given the next two days off to recover. He was pretty sure interns had even fewer vacation days than employees did, but he couldn’t really complain. With only one functioning eye again, he was still rattled. Maybe the time off would do him good. That, and, Jack had offered to let him stay over at his place.

For the first time ever.

It was about time, considering they had been together for two months.

“I half expected him to send a limo for you,” Vaughn commented with a small smirk, leaning against the windowsill and looking at the red vehicle parked down on the street. “It’s not much different, though, the uh. The sports car thing. Is that him? Holy crap,” he went on, eyebrows rising as Jack stepped out of the convertible and flipped his sunglasses up.

“He doesn’t drive the limos,” Rhys mumbled, realizing too late that it wasn’t much of an argument. He pushed away from the kitchen counter and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Should’ve known,” the accountant mumbled as the man on the sidewalk pulled out his phone and his roommate picked up a call a second later.

“Yeah? Hey, Jack,” Rhys said with a lopsided smile, walking toward the front door and shouldering his phone to grab his suitcase. Vaughn folded his arms across his chest and smirked as he watched the taller man maneuver out their front door. “Yeah, I’m coming down…”

Turning as the door shut, Vaughn leaned against the wall again to watch the Hyperion CEO grin like a feral beast before hanging up. For a moment, his smirk faltered, and Vaughn had to wonder if Rhys wasn’t getting into something genuinely dangerous. But that was stupid. Rhys was technically an adult, now, right? Just like him. If Vaughn could hang out with strange people, so could his best friend. Even if Vaughn didn’t really hang out with older, wealthier, more powerful men like Rhys did.

Lips pressing together, Vaughn squinted at the sight of his oldest friend receiving a rather shameless, open-mouthed greeting from Handsome goddamned Jack.

Maybe he should check up on him a little more often.

 

 

“So I’m thinkin’ our next weekend should be outta town,” Jack said, one hand on the wheel and the other slowly rubbing up and down Rhys’ thigh. The motion was grounding, somehow, so Rhys never protested, simply smiling to himself and leaning back in the passenger seat to get comfortable. “Somewhere warm and sunny. Maybe with a real beach, huh?”

The suggestion wasn’t necessarily out of the blue, since Jack wasn’t the best at subtle hints. The last few days, he’d been dropping the occasional beach town or resort pamphlet by Rhys’ desk, much to the surprise and panic of everyone else in the robotics department. Taking him shopping for a new swimsuit — _Nah, nah, babe, something European, gotta show off your goods!_ — was probably the most obvious clue. Rhys smiled sheepishly, having difficulty picturing himself wearing the new suit in public. “Not big on the lake beach?” he teased in turn, and Jack chuckled quietly, giving his leg a light squeeze.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. But it’s not exciting.”

“I thought the idea was to relax.”

Jack snorted this time, and gave the younger man a mischievous smirk, looking at him sideways. “Who says we can’t have both?”

“Um. Grammar, I think.” Rhys flashed a shit-eating grin. It was an unimpressive quip, but Jack laughed again, and heat curled in the intern’s belly.

 

 

Draped over Jack, Rhys rested his head on the older man’s chest, letting the hand at the small of his back ease the last of his tension. Normally, he was too big to lie on someone, too tall and gangly for anyone else to be comfortable like Jack was. But Jack was more than just comfortable. He regularly invited Rhys to lie atop him, adjusting them so that they’d fit flush together and Jack could wrap arms around the intern as he pleased. The first few times he’d suggested it, Rhys had hesitated.

“What,” he’d said, flat and yet bewildered. Impossible.

Jack had laid back and simply smirked at him, patient and remarkably handsome as he had patted his belly and expectantly quirked a brow. Rhys had given in without another word, eyes on Jack’s as he’d slowly come forward, easing a knee between his boss’ legs to lower himself. Jack’s hand cradling the back of his head had sealed the deal, allowing Rhys to finally and fully relax.

Some new action movie was playing on the oversized television in the opposite wall, and Rhys was paying no attention whatsoever to the plot, only watching the car chases and explosions with mild interest. His mind was entirely focused on where Jack’s second hand went, pushing fingers into his hair and lightly dragging blunt nails over his scalp.

It was so easy to make the kid melt, petting his hair with an occasional gentle scratch like a goddamned kitten. He liked that about Rhys, something he’d never thought a lot about or even wanted in previous relationships. Then again, his past dates had typically been women, and a far cry from who Rhys was. Rhys might also be his first truly, naturally submissive partner. People didn’t think it to look at him, but Jack was what one might call “happy as hell to switch around.” But with Rhys?

Rhys was a fucking _cupcake._

“Ah, I forgot to mention,” Jack drawled at some point, paying just about as much attention to the movie as Rhys was, “I looked into that mechanic of yours.”

Rhys stiffened rather suddenly, and Jack waited for him to speak. “Oh?” came the cautious reply, a careful prompt. Jack had his complete attention, now.

A smug sense of satisfaction crept into Jack’s next words. “Yeah. Had Hammerlock check ‘im out. He skipped town, little fucker.” A lie. But while Jack wasn’t subtle at surprises and spoiling his favorite intern, he was very, very skilled at lying.

“Oh,” Rhys said again, softer. The relief was obvious, only cementing Jack’s resolve to keep up the simple lie. Rhys steadily slackened again, limp and malleable as Jack shifted under him, rubbing tiny circles into his back as he slipped a thigh between the younger man’s legs. Rhys’ breath hitched, but he didn’t offer complaint, his arm only curling more between Jack and the back of the couch.

Jack very much liked these sorts of reactions.

“Yeah. Wanted to fire him and send him packing, but he beat me to it. Friggin’ coward,” Jack scoffed, his hand a little more firm as he played with the intern’s wavy brown hair. It was incredible, how little product he even had to use to get it to do what he wanted, and yet his hair was so _clean_. “I’ll find you someone better.” Rhys hummed low in his throat, mindlessly angling his head to give his hand better access, a more comfortable angle for Jack to fiddle with his hair.

A goddamned _cupcake._

 

 

Rhys is less surprised this time to hear that Jack has left town without warning again. The first time it had happened while they were — let’s say, going out — Rhys nearly panicked. Handsome Jack might own the streets of Helios, but other cities, other districts, someone might try something enormously stupid. The CEO had recounted an attempted mugging once, for instance. Jack might have come out on top, unscathed, but that didn’t mean Rhys wouldn’t worry.

“I can take care of myself, pumpkin,” Jack had mused afterward, and squeezed the back of Rhys’ neck, earning only a pout and a glare. “Really. I got this, Rhysie. No one in Old Haven ‘ll try that bullshit again.”

This time, however, the rumor mill dictated that Handsome Jack was in Pandora. _Pandora,_ for god’s sake. It was one of the dirtiest, shadiest, most dangerous cities for thousands of miles, and Jack seemingly went there all the time. This time, it was unexpectedly, at least to the intern. What if this time, he didn’t come back the unharmed winner?

 

 

“Kid’s probably worried about you, y’know,” the woman commented, smirking as she picked up a fine example of Hyperion workmanship and inspected the sights.

“You doin’ your hair differently?” Jack wondered, narrowing his gaze and looking her over curiously. She always hated it when he didn’t notice the little things.

“Good job, eagle eye,” she chuckled, lowering the gun and meeting his gaze. Jack grinned, victorious. “Got tired of looking through a curtain.” She set the pistol back into the crate and put her hands on her hips, fingers tapping on her custom holster. “Absolutely gorgeous, Jack. How about the grenade mods?”

Jack turned slightly, bending to pick up another crate, a guard decked out in Hyperion yellow taking a step back to give him room. Hauling the stacked crate onto the table, the CEO pressed the locking mechanism and held it open for the mob boss to examine its contents. The way her eyes widened brought a smug smile to his face.

“Oh, Jack,” she breathed in awe, lifting the first modifier up and turning it in her hands. “Look at that pretty orange glow,” she added lower, a soft smile slowly curling into something more sinister.

“Gotta love incendiary effects,” Jack agreed, well-versed in the woman’s tastes.

A dark laugh echoed around them, and Nisha “the Sheriff” Kadam leisurely lowered the modifier back into the crate, closing the lid herself and meeting Jack’s sharp eyes with her own. “You know me so well, babe.”

“Don’t I ever?” the CEO growled, grin wild and enthusiastic.

“These’ll do just fine,” she decided, waving someone behind her forward. A large man, somehow twice as wide as Jack but only an eighth as confident, set a crate next to the grenade modifiers before backing up again, never once looking up. Jack nodded to the Hyperion guard to his right, and the man picked up the new crate before falling back in line. “The Lynchwoods are more than happy to do business again,” the woman assured the masked man, reaching a hand out.

Jack took it delicately, setting a kiss on her wrist. “Anytime, beautiful,” he answered wryly, smirking as he stood straight again.

“And don’t bring so many goons next time. You know I’d never kill you,” Nisha added airily, chuckling again and setting her palm on the closed crate of modifiers. “Maybe you can bring your pretty little new beau next time, instead?” she suggested, bored with feigning any further disinterest.

“Nah, kid’s a skittish kitten. Wouldn’t wanna scare him off just yet,” Jack said as he turned. “That’s what the goons are for!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Keeping him convinced I’m quote-unquote safe!” Jack explained as he started toward the warehouse doors.

“You’re already lying to him,” Nisha loudly pointed out, and smirked when a sharp _“Fucking hell, she’s_ right! _”_ sounded before the Hyperion president was gone.

 

 

“Got a surprise for you, princess.”

Rhys jolted in his seat, turning around and blinking up at Handsome Jack, glasses askew. He quickly pushed them back into place before rising, ignoring the amused grin on the older man’s face. “What?”

“C’mon, gorgeous, we’re going out for dinner,” Jack said grandly, and slung an arm around the intern’s shoulders, directing him out of his otherwise empty cubicle and walking them quickly down the hall.

“It’s barely seven,” Rhys noted, glad he had his bag on his shoulder already. He hadn’t meant to stay late, really, but he was so close to finishing a new program. Showing off wasn’t the term he really wanted to use, but he did want to make a point to Gaige that he definitely belonged in her department. “We don’t usually do dinner for another hour.”

“Oh, Rhysie, Rhysie. You’re so precious,” Jack purred, effectively silencing him by turning his head to plant a kiss on his lips, pink in the intern’s cheeks. “This dinner’s special.”

Getting better at recognizing when he should and shouldn’t keep asking questions, Rhys pursed his lips and held back the obvious question of what made this particular dinner special. It wasn’t until they’d stepped outside and realized they were headed toward a limousine that he opened his mouth again.

“What’s this? No. No way, I’m not—,” he began, looking down at himself and tugging at his half-tucked shirt. “I’m not dressed for whatever it is we’re doing!” he protested, digging his heels into the pavement to slow them down.

“ _Precious,_ ” Jack repeated with a laugh, and instead of arguing with or trying to convince him, the Hyperion CEO ducked to pick the younger man up. Rhys squawked, reaching to wrap his arm around the back of Jack’s neck, genuinely startled by the display of strength and… dominance.

Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised. But Rhys was a tall and fully grown man, not a lot of bridal style carrying happened to him.

The driver got out of the vehicle to come to the back door, pulling it open and nodding to Handsome Jack, who flashed him a wicked grin before easing Rhys into the back.

“You really didn’t hafta do that,” Rhys huffed, bright red by the time he was scooting over to let Jack slide in next to him.

“I really did,” the older man countered with a wry smile, taking Rhys’ jaw and bringing him closer to kiss him much slower this time. Lips curving as Rhys began to relax and return the gesture, Jack slid a hand over the intern’s chest before easing it down to his waist, the back of his leg, angling his body as he wanted it. Rhys melted, sighing softly as he shifted to Jack’s specifications, distracted from his previous objections.

He wasn’t sure how long they made out, but by the time they rolled to a stop, Jack had mussed Rhys’ hair and unbuttoned most of his shirt, leaving him a pretty, disheveled mess when the cab door opened. Jack, on the other hand, was mostly unrumpled, only a few hairs out of place from the few moments Rhys was allowed to have his hand free. For someone with only one arm, he sure as hell liked having Jack hold it behind him at his leisure. Not that he was complaining.

Clearing his throat, Jack freed Rhys’ wrist, and the younger man was pulled from whatever heights he’d reached, coming back to reality as the streetlamps shined through the opened door. “Quick stop, before we eat,” Jack told him, Rhys’ eyes wide as he realized the driver was standing just outside the door, and he and any passers-by could see the intern in his messy state. On Jack’s lap.

Scrambling, Rhys tried to get up and fix his shirt at the same time, but he slipped, sliding onto the floor of the limousine with a grunt.

Laughing shortly, Jack helped him back up, smoothing down his hair and helping him get his clothes back to rights while Rhys blushed and frowned at his huge hands. He forgave him for laughing when Jack rubbed his back and quietly asked if he’d gotten hurt.

“Hermann’s?” Rhys asked, back in sorts and standing on the sidewalk as the driver shut the limousine door. “Jack, I. I really don’t need another suit,” he protested, but nonetheless let the man take his hand and drag him inside the tailor shop. “Hello, Hermann,” he greeted the proprietor with a nervous smile.

“Ah,” the man said simply, and scurried away while Jack leaned on his counter, giving Rhys a mischievous look. Rhys narrowed his gaze suspiciously, staying back from the register while Hermann shuffled around in the back of the store.

“What’s that face,” Rhys said slowly, wishing he’d brought his bag in, for something his fingers could fidget with.

Hermann returned before Jack could answer, laying a long white dust bag on the counter and tapping on the register’s screen. “I assume this is on your tab?” the old man said, looking at Jack with raised eyebrows, but he blinked when the CEO shook his head.

“No, no. My stunning date is taking care of this one.”

Rhys froze. Panic climbed up his throat and panic roiled in his gut. What? Oh, no. No, no, no, he should have known he couldn’t leech off of Jack for this long. He couldn’t afford Hermann’s beautiful suits, how was he going to “take care of this one?” Shit, he’d have to pick up another paying job. Three, probably. If he recalled correctly, one of the tags on Hermann’s _untailored_ suits had been well beyond the thousand dollar mark. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity _fucknuts._

Jack watched Rhys’ internal panic for a few moments, smirking to himself and ignoring Hermann’s confused stare. But Jack couldn’t let the kid suffer longer than he really had to, so he turned to lean back against the counter and pulled his wallet out of his jacket. “Ohhh, that’s right!” he began, and looked at Rhys just in time to catch the expression he made before he unwittingly broke down. “I didn’t give it to you yet!”

While Rhys didn’t immediately process what was happening, he managed to drag his eyes to Jack, looking for all intents and purposes like a scared puppy.

“My bad, my bad,” Jack said easily, and pulled a brand new credit card from his wallet, holding it up with two fingers. “Why don’t you do the honors, sweetcheeks?”

Still mortified, Rhys’ face screwed up. Was this a joke? He wasn’t laughing, this was so completely _not cool_. Everyone knew you couldn’t just get a card for someone else. Rhys was already contemplating how to rig his bank account for a few days while he actually found work that could pay off the suit—

A wolf whistle snapped him out of his reverie, and Rhys jumped again, eyes stinging until he pushed his fingers up under his glasses to rub at them, taking a deep breath. _Don’t panic, it’s fine, you always somehow bounce back,_ he told himself, and startled when thick arms came suddenly around him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Jack murmured, lifting Rhys’ glasses away, setting them on the counter behind him. “Aw, cupcake. I’m sorry, that was pretty mean, huh? I was just joking, I promise,” the man chuckled softly, and Rhys was somewhat relieved not to hear mocking in his tone. “The card’s yours. Seriously. I put you on my account. Thought you should have fun even when I’m not around.”

Rhys said nothing, knowing himself well enough to know that if he tried to speak right then, he’d end up crying like the huge baby he was. He kept his fingers pressed to his eyes, humiliated and too embarrassed to move his hand from his face. He did resist when Jack tugged at his wrist, taking a deep but shuddering breath as he kept his eyes downcast. The panic hadn’t really subsided, just thinned out to more of his body, leaving him shaking even in Jack’s arms.

“Holy shit, baby, I really freaked you out,” Jack noted quietly, genuinely surprised. Frowning, he urged Rhys’ head to his shoulder. Rhys nuzzled at his neck and continued trying to breathe deeply, hoping to calm his heartbeat. “You gotta know, cupcake, I can’t spoil you by makin’ you pay for the good stuff,” Jack began carefully, giving Rhys a moment to find himself and even out his breathing. “Was s’pposed to be a surprise. Sorry I just gave you a heart attack instead.”

Rhys mumbled something unintelligible, but Jack was pretty sure it was along the lines of “It’s okay.”

“It’s all yours, babe. My money, your name on the card, just the way it should be.” Jack kissed the side of Rhys’ head, just above his port, and the intern shivered, relaxing a little more. “Money freak you out?”

Rhys didn’t answer, completely silent. No, he was never worried about money. He didn’t stay up nights thinking about student loan debt. He didn’t every now and again have a convoluted nightmare about not making rent and getting thrown out on the street, and thereby also getting his internship yanked away. No, money was fine, he _loved_ thinking and talking about money.

Jack could feel the downturn of Rhys’ lips a moment later, and smirked. “You bein’ a smart-ass in there?” he lowed at Rhys’ ear, and Rhys guiltily buried himself more in the man’s neck. The older man laughed, and brought a hand back to the back of Rhys’ neck to rub at the base of his skull. “Probably deserve that. Listen, pumpkin. I got a new suit with your measurements. You’ve been so _good_ for me, lately, thought you deserved a reward.”

If Rhys shivered again for the praise, so be it.

 

 

A few minutes and a few dozen more placations later, Rhys was modeling the surprise suit for Jack. He’d had to push his hair back into place, had to clean his glasses, but with the dark grey slacks and jacket, lighter grey shirt, yellow vest and tie, he looked like the kind of person even the most elite couldn’t turn their nose up at. Subtle hexagonal patterning on the jacket shoulders and sleeves was reminiscent of one of his favorite Hyperion-influenced vests. The vest for the new suit itself was marked with the same blink-and-you’ll-miss-it pattern. His tie was less subtle, the hexagons more obviously recalling honeycomb, but Rhys adored it. His shirt was exquisitely soft, and even though he had to pin up one of the arms, he didn’t feel awkward or alien for doing it.

Jack let out a low whistle, impressed. Seated in one of the armchairs near the trio of mirrors, he got up slowly and approached the intern. He was delighted by the shy smile and the flush in Rhys’ cheeks as he looked the younger man all over, making a circle around him and taking in the sight. “Good god, you’re gorgeous,” he said smugly, and Rhys rubbed at the back of his neck. Jack was glad he’d had Hermann keep the second sleeves. Rhys probably didn’t think much about it, but it left them options. “How about the shoes?” he asked, though he didn’t mind Rhys’ fuzzy green frog socks in the least.

“Shoes?” Rhys echoed quietly, brow furrowed as he looked over his shoulder into the dressing room.

“Right. Hermann!” Jack called. The tailor looked up from his racks, evidently trying to appear busy. “Forgot about the shoes. D’you mind?”

Nodding, the old man wandered off for a few seconds, but returned with a box to set in Jack’s hand. The CEO nodded, and he shuffled back to his racks again.

Jack popped the lid off and gave Rhys a winning smile before he crouched, on one knee as he pulled one of the shoes out. Rhys gave him a tired but amused smile, brow knit. Lifting one foot carefully, he caught himself on Jack’s shoulder as the older man helped him get the shoes on. Well, so much for Cinderella. Balance wasn’t necessarily his forte, anyway. Jack didn’t seem to mind.

With both shoes on, Rhys looked in the mirrors, still not used to the multiples that surrounded him. He really did look good, maybe even high class. The tiny smile he wore for his reflection spoke volumes enough for Jack, who looked on with pride and maybe considerable lust.

“Now _that_ … is a handsome bastard,” the Hyperion president said firmly, nodding curtly. “Why don’t we have you practice your signature for your shiny new card, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but there are actually sexytimes upcoming I am sorry I haven't been writing any????? but they're coming I promise


End file.
